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MEMORIAL 


OF 


UREN. MYRON NEWTON MORRIS. 





PUBLISHED BY 
THE CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH, 


West Hartford, Conn. 


HARTFORD, CONN.: 
Press oF THE Case, Lockwoop & BraINARD CoMPANY, 


1886. 








The following vote, passed by the Congregational church 
of West Hartford, Conn., sets forth the origin of this 


memorial. 


WHEREAS, A desire has been expressed by many members 
of this church that some fitting memorial be prepared of 
the late Rev. Myron Newton Morris, for so hee years our 
beloved pastor, therefore : 


Resolved, That we hereby extend an invitation to the members 
of his family to furnish such a sketch of his life and work, to be 
published by this church, as shall be most acceptable to them. 

Resolved, That Messrs. Charles C. Stearns, Henry Talcott, 
and William H. Hall, be a committee to act in behalf of the 
church in conferring with the family and in securing the publica- 
tion and distribution of this volume. 











CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH; 
By Edward L. Morris; 
eeeariy Lite, 1819 to 1332, = - - - - ” 
2. From School to Pulpit, 1832 to 1846, - 17 
3. Inthe Pulpit and Out, 1846 to 1885, : - 27 
4. Home Life. Traits of the Man, - - = 40 
FUNERAL ADDRESS; 
By Nathaniel J. Burton, D.D., - - - 56 
- Mr. Morris AS A STUDENT AND FELLOW OF YALE 
COLLEGE ; | 
By President Noah Porter, D.D., LL.D., - 4 72 
LETTER ; 
From George W. Cooke of Waterbury, Conn., - a7 
REMINISCENCES ; 
By Rev. Joseph W. Backus, - - - - 80 
IMPRESSIONS 3 
By Rev. Franklin S. Hatch, Successor in the West 
Hartford Pulpit, - - - - - 85. 
SERMONS; 
Preached by Rev. Myron N. Morris, at West Hart- 
ford, July 1, 1852, - - - - - gI 
Preached by Rev. Myron N. Morris, at West Hart- 
ford, April 18, 1875, - : - 106 
STATISTICAL RECORD, - - - - se TO 


PUBLISHED DISCOURSES, - - - : ae 








BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 





I. 
EARLY LIFE. —I8IO To 1832. 


How shall we- sketch this even, unpretending life? 
Standing upon the threshold of the home, how shall 
we speak rightly to the public, and at the same time 
do justice to him who never dreamed, probably, that 
so much as the present volume would be dedicated 
to his memory; whose keen sense of truth and worth 
and distrust of human praise were such as to lead him 
to exclaim, long time ago, “I hope nobody will ever 
eulogize me”? We have hesitated, but for these many 
hearts who wish to keep his memory bright, rehearse 
the simple story. 

Myron Newton Morris came from Warren, one of 
the ‘“‘hill towns” of Connecticut, in Litchfield county. 
He was born Nov. 19, 1810. His father was a farmer, 
at that time located on “College Farms,” one of five 
large tracts of land, of three hundred acres each, deeded 
by the State to Yale College, in 1741. The old house 
is still standing, a little one-story dwelling, brown and. 


8 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


weather-worn, and still suggesting a snug and humble 
comfort. We may imagine gathered about the ample 
fireplace, on a winter's night, Newton John Morris, 
his wife, Eunice Newton, and, besides the little new- 
comer, three children, — Abigail, Garry, and Polly, 
whose ages were respectively seventeen, sixteen, and 
eight. The other children, much older, had been for 
some time living away. They were Jon thirty-two, 
and Any, twenty-four. 

Not long after the important event which we have 
just recorded, the family removed to more commodious 
quarters in a new house of their own. This had been 
built on a farm of two hundred acres, consisting — 
mostly of wild and wooded land, which furnished solid 
work enough to stir the energies of all concerned. It 
lay in “ West District,” some mile and a half from 
Warren meeting-house. Here the boy Myron grew 
up, learning early to labor with his hands, and acquir- 
ing something of that New England pluck which 
comes to those whose lot it is to bend the back to toil 
and wrestle with the tough old oaks. 

Of Newton John Morris and his wife, we know that 
they were upright, Christian people, tenacious of the — 
old beliefs, appreciating their church privileges, hold- 
ing regularly their family worship, keeping strictly 
their Saturday night, and instilling their children’s 
minds with notions of usefulness and duty. They 
were large of stature, and surrounded themselves with 
a family doing honor in this respect to the parental 
stock. 





EARLY LIFE, m9 


_ Mr. Morris once said, speaking of his descent, and 
referring particularly to the Morris side, “I do not 
know much about my ancestors, but, so far as I can 
learn, they were ‘a// honest.” This is much to know. 
Taking up the research later, he was able to discover 
‘a most worthy source. His father, who, by the way, 
was married twice, Myron being the last child by the 
second marriage, was, before the birth of his children, 
a soldier of the Revolution. Of his grandfather, Mr. 
Morris says in a note, which we find under date of 
1840, “My paternal grandfather, John Morris, and his 
wife, Sybil Newton, resided at Milford, Conn., and 
afterwards removed to Ridgefield, in that State. He 
was a weaver by trade, cloth of domestic manufacture 
at that time being generally woven by men who had 
served a regular apprenticeship in the business, and 
went about from house to house to do their work, as 
carpenters and masons and some shoemakers do at 
the present day. He sometimes went a voyage to 
sea. They both lived to a good old age. I never saw 
either of them, nor do I know at what age they died; 
but when my father was seventy years old he supposed 
that his mother was still living. My impression is 
that my grandfather was somewhat severe with his 
children, but a very kind and generous-hearted man, 
greatly preferring to /zve well with his family and 
neighbors to laying up property; so that, with his 
careless and rather adventurous spirit, he was gener- 
ally poor.” 


That one should ‘‘suppose” that his mother was 
2 


IO BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


still living may seem a trifle strange; but she was 
quite possibly with some other of her children in the 
“far west’’ of New York State, or even at some then 
remote section of Connecticut. Mails were not fre- 
quent then, as they are to-day. Most of the old let- 
ters begin, ‘“‘Having an opportunity to send by So- 
and-So, who is going to-morrow,” etc., etc. 

' Mr. Morris’s maternal grandfather, John Newton, 
and his paternal grandmother, Sybil Newton, were 
brother and sister, and were the great-great-grand-chil- 
dren of the famous Rev. Thomas Hooker, the pioneer 
minister of Connecticut, his eldest daughter, Mary, 
having married Rev. Roger Newton, who was ordained 
at Farmington October 13, 1652, was installed at Mil- 
ford in 1660, and died June 7, 1683. It will be seen 
that Mr. Morris was the inheritor, by a double line, of 
ministerial blood. 

The influences of his native town were various. 
There were hard characters there, such as frequently 
gather in the country villages, the liquor interest was 
often very strong, and many an exciting time was had 
about the tavern, upon which the sober church looked 
down reprovingly. The hotness of these conflicts may 
be imagined when it is told that a certain deacon held 
out against the Cold Water Society so stoutly that 
some of the younger members were moved to steal 
away his sign, and to commit other acts of semi-riotous 
nature from time to time, in order to give emphasis to 
their ultra sentiments. But that Warren church, set 
upon its hill, had always strength to wage its earnest 





EARLY LIFE. II 


conflicts, though with foes without or foes within. It 

was the “mother church” of such men as Charles G. 
_ Finney, Julian M. Sturtevant, John L. Taylor, and 
scores of humbler names, who made their beginning 
here as valiant soldiers. Peter Starr was its minister 
from March, 1772, until his death in July, 1829, and 
under him were powerful revivals in 1783, 1799, and 
1821. Mr. Morris became a member of this church 
in 1831, not with any suddenness of “experience,” 
or overflowing of emotion, but as the result of a calm 
resolve which had its source in early childhood and 
took strength with rising years. : 

From the first he was thoughtful, studious, and 
manly. His mind was of that mature sort which 
weighed its purposes and set diligently about its work. 
Cradled in devoutness, and nursed in soundness of 
the ancient doctrines, a prompting to religious things 
seemed in his native air as well as flowing in his veins. 
From his steady habits and reflective ways he earned 
the title of “Father Morris” while at the: village 
school, and applied himself to lessons often while the 
others played. But he found chances from time to 
time to fish in Waremaug Lake and Spectacle Pond, 
and bore through life the mark of at least one youth- 
ful exploit in the way of coasting, a scar across his 
throat, cut by one of those ugly, crooked fences which 
often stride so inconveniently athwart one’s path. 

He was a bashful boy, and many a time went hard 
with him, requiring all his resolution to bear him 
through. He looked forward to atime when he should 


12 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


move in wider circles and overcome this natural 
timidity, not alone for selfish ends, but that his useful- 
ness might be increased. At length, having gained 
an impetus from the privileges of the district school 
and “Select Academy,” the latter occupying what is 
now known as the Town Hall, he got permission to 

go away from home and teach, the condition being : 
that the wages earned should be paid into the home 
treasury, he being then under age. So in the fall of 
1828 he secured a school at Union Vale, Dutchess 
County, N. Y. And now begins a series of letters, 
which we are fortunate to have in our possession, 
written for the most part to his two sisters who were 
at home,and throwing much light upon those early 
days. They show here and there a sportive tendency, 
many a joke plying its way back and forth amid more 
serious matters. Just one is written to his father and 
mother. It gives an account of his experience upon 
taking charge of the school, and is interesting as 
showing: that polite, fihal regard which is none too 
common in these “more enlightened” days, being 
addressed to his ‘‘Worthy Parents,” and signed 
“Yours Respectfully.” He “sendss it by Mit Carter, 
and says that he has begun school on a rainy day with 
seventeen scholars. Merville Saunders has obtained 
a school “in Freedom at twelve dollars a month,” 
which we judge to be about the common wages. Of 
course they ‘boarded around.” Mr. Morris has no 

sooner commenced his duties as a teacher than he 
takes an interest in a “Christian Meeting” which he 





EARLY LIFE. 13 


hears of in the neighborhood, and which he finds to be 
_ much like the Methodist meetings which he has pre- 
viously known His watch, which figures conspicu- 
ously on several occasions, is humorously described 
as a good one to close the session by, carrying itself, 
as watches are apt to do, in cases where economy per- 
petuates their services, quite independently of the 
regulator, and gaining “about half an hour in twenty- 
four.” 

Bent on’ securing an education for himself, he looks 
back, still with longing, from among his pupils to the 
academy at. Warren, whose new term is just commenc- 
ing. 

Acquaintance widens as he goes from house to 
house, and an opportunity. is afforded for studying 
human nature in its’ various forms. Sometimes the 
cautious citizens refuse to harbor him, and here and 
there a case becomes so desperate that he is obliged, 
by slow delay and careful tactics, to thaw out the cold- 
ness of his hosts until they come unconsciously to be 
his friends, and at last his welcoming entertainers. 

Under date of December 11, 1828, after recording 
an increase in the number of his scholars to fifty-four, 
he says, “I will tell you just what I think about teach- 
ing school. It requires the patience of Job, and the 
wisdom of Solomon, together with a firm resolution 
that can not be shaken, and yet, to a person who has 
all those qualifications, there must be many trying 
seasons, especially where there are a great many small 


scholars.” And he remarks, further along in the same 


I4 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


letter, that he is “‘just the person that don’t begin to 
teach school and then back out,” adding in language 
so true and forcible that we cannot forbear to repro- 
duce it, “just so with anyother scrape!’’ In January, 
1829, he reports that his scholars number “ upwards 
of seventy.” The fall of that year, however, finds 
him teaching in Dover, N.Y.. Frequent journeys 
home are made, many of them on foot, his length of 
limb, on which his sisters chaff him pleasantly, ena- 
bling him to take long strides and saving many a 
coach fare. They lead him through a country full of 
natural beauty. How many times in after years did 
he see again, in imagination, those hills and vales, clad 
in summer’s green or white with snows of winter! 
But he does not always choose to walk. This is the. 
prospectus of a business enterprise, in which profit and 
pleasure are to be combined: ‘“ Should the weather 
be favorable and the traveling good, I shall probably 
come home next week on Saturday or week after on 
Monday, and bring a small load of flour. I am to 
have the flour for three dollars per hundred, and the 
miller furnishes me with a horse and wagon to carry 
it. My principal object is to get a ride home, and if I 
could sell the flour for three dollars and twenty-five 
cents per hundred I should make a small profit. Mr. 
Washburn sells his flour for three dollars and twenty- 
five cents per hundred by the single bag, and as far as 
I can learn that is the stated price for small quantities,” 

The boy is coming fast to manhood. His mind 
expands and takes in all that offers in the way of 
wholesome information, and gives out as it may to 





EARLY LIFE. [5 


cheer or waken those around. One of his sisters, 

equally with himself, is of a religious turn of thought, 
- and she looks with tenderest care after the morals of 
her young brother, who, in turn, confides to her his 
hopes and doubts, his triumphs or defeats, and his 
plans for future work, as Providence shall guide. 
During his stay at Dover, it seems that he is engaged 
in something which she designates as ‘debate meet- 
ings,’ held on Sunday nights, and she is much con- 
cerned lest such a course shall lead to an undervalua- 
tion of that sacred day. She writes him a long letter, 
in which she argues the case, closing with a quotation 
from a hymn, and inserting, on a sheet of old-style, 
long letter-paper, sixty-four very closely written lines 
from “ Dr. Scott’s Explanatory Notes” upon the fourth 
commandment. It is possible that these debates were, 
in the minds of the participants, allowable after sun- 
down; but we have not been able to ascertain their 
exact nature, or whether Dr. Scott's Notes broke 
them up. 

Now comes a change affecting all. On January 14, 
1830, the father of the family died at his home on the 
Warren farm. Mr. Morris must still be absent fora 
time to finish, his term at Dover. Garry, who has 
been for some time right-hand man, is appointed exec- 
utor of the will, and it is found that there is much 
question whether its provisions can be carried out and 
anything be left for him. What shall theydoa The 
snow is on the ground, and the lots cannot be easily 
surveyed and set off with fairness, the spring work 
must be somehow arranged, and there is doubt as to 


16 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


whether the whole should not be sold together. Polly 
beseeches Myron to come home and choose a guardian, | 
while Abby urges that there must be mutual sacrifice, 
that we must “pray for grace, that we may be enabled 
to trust in the Lord with all our hearts,’ and that 
“riches are not essentially necessary to render us 
happy in this life, or to prepare us for happiness in 
the world to come.” | 

A clause in the will reads as follows: “I give and 
bequeath unto my son, Myron Newton Morris, eight 
hundred dollars, to be paid to him in money or in land 
from my estate, at the appraisal of disinterested free- 
holders, to be named by my'son Myron and my execu- 
tor, said sum of eight hundred dollars to be paid to 
him at the time of my decease; and I do also give to 
my said son Myron one yoke of oxen, one horse, sad- 
dle, and bridle, all of the value of one hundred and 
fifty dollars, to be furnished to him by my executor in 
one year from my decease.” 

Here, then, was opportunity to go back to farming. 
Was not Warren as fair a place for usefulness as any? 
Did not duty plainly call him, too? His absence from 
home had been so far considered as merely temporary. 
So he at length consented to take the farm for a year 
or two, and being quite a manager, was able to 
straighten out some difficult matters, after which it 
was turned over again to Garry. How favorably or 
unfavorably for each affairs turned out at last we are 
unable at this late date to say. It is not probable that 
Mr. Morris started out either quite penniless, or over- 
‘supplied with funds. 





iva 
From ScHoor To PuLpir.—1832 To 1846. 


In May, 1832, having determined to fit for college, 
Mr. Morris placed himself under the instruction of 
Hon. Hawley Olmstead, at his school in Wilton, Conn., 
where he remained until August, 1833. He writes 
home May 12th that he is comfortably situated in a 
“large upper room, furnished,” in a family who are 
connections of one of Andover’s professors, that he 
has a good room-mate, and expects two more, and pays 
$1.50 per week for board and washing, finding his own 
fuel and lights. He says, after speaking of the good 
living furnished, ‘“‘ But I consider my board to be of 
minor importance. What I value most highly is, that 
I have got into a pious family, and that I have Chris- 
tian companions, This was what I was most anxious 
about before I came here; for the thought that I 
might break loose from that restraint and reserve 
upon the subject of religion with which, partly my 
natural temper, but chiefly habit, had bound me, was 
not among the least of the causes that induced me to 
leave Warren. This restraint is probably as great a 
hindrance to usefulness as any one thing else.” 

In answer to an inquiry from his sister, later, as to 


how effectual his absence from home has been in the 
3 - 


18 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


matter last mentioned, he says, “I find myself too 
much disposed to fall in with any kind of conversation 
that may chance to come up; and I find it much 
easier to introduce any other topic than the one;in 
question, especially when in company with those who 
are rather cold upon the subject. I might say that 
this is a constitutional defect; but 1] beleve it was 
incorporated with the constitution by habit, and this - 
habit is the result of choice. The choice may be in 
consequence of the fall of Adam, but not a mecessary 
consequence of it. The fact is, constitutional failings 
.affect everything alike, and zo religion alone. And 
when I hear persons able to talk with freedom, in all 
places and at all times, upon secular subjects, but 
unable to say a word upon religious topics, I do not 
hesitate to say that this reserve is zo¢ a constitutional 
one. As to myself, I. feel a greater freedom abroad 
than at home, but I fear that this diffidence or reserve 
will disqualify me for usefulness in the sphere of life 
which I had anticipated.” 

While thus mourning his shortcomings, he kept 
steadily on in Christian work, his letters showing a 
constant interest in the one great theme. A section 
of the town was destitute of a Sunday-school, and in 
this he labored, with other students, making a thor-. 
ough canvass, and collecting large numbers who had 
not before been reached. This was under an impulse 
_given by the American Sabbath-School Union, which 
organized about that time a grand simultaneous move- 
«ment throughout the United States. 








FROM SCHOOL TO PULPIT. 19 


In October, 1833, Mr. Morris entered Yale College. 
_A glad day indeed! looked forward to through years 
of toil and patience ; dreamed of when he had listened 

to the wise words of men who had been to him exam- 
ples, and pictured while delving in the wood and field! 
New scenes now open. New companions greet him 
day by day. New thoughts are stirred, and now and 
then new glories are perceived, as yet quite dimly, on 
the far horizon. Toil, toil, toil, he is at it yet as hard 
as on thefarm. He rises at five in the morning, reads 
his Bible, goes to prayers at six, attends a recitation 
afterward, and at half-past seven takes breakfast. The 
bell for study rings at nine, but he usually commences 
“immediately after breakfast.” After twelve he takes 
a little exercise, eats dinner at one, and though the 
study bell does not ring until two, he has been for 
some time at his books. So it goes through the day, 
prayers coming again at five, supper, and study hours 
again, until ten, when he retires. He says: “Some 
think this is being ‘tied up,’ but it is just such con- 
finement as [ like.” 

Who were the young men with whom he now came 
in contact? Some of them are mentioned later. We 
may here name, some well-known, formerly or at pres- 
ent, in Hartford, Walter Clarke, D.D., Rev. Joseph 
D. Hull, John Hooker, Edmund Terry ; others of New 
Haven, Prof. Benjamin Silliman, Prof. Chester S. 
Lyman; and still others, Azariah Smith, M.D., James 
D, Whelpley, M.D., David B. Coe, D.D., Hon. Ed- 
wards Pierrepont, Chief Justice Morrison R. Waite, and 
Hon. Samuel J. Tilden, the latter not a graduate. 


\ 


20 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


Most of the class were much younger than Mr. 
Morris, though there were some half-dozen of about 
his age, or older. ‘Father Morris” he soon becomes, 
as in the village school, from form and age, and serious 
manner. There was great variety of character, of 
course, among his associates, and, if often self-con- 
tained and silent, he was no less an acute observer of 
men. As to his influence upon them, let others speak 
who knew him there. 

Hard work came to him as a “sécond nature,’ and, 
watching every moment while at college, he regrets 
the “ waste of time” during vacations, which he spends 
with his relatives, who have now established a home 
in North Kent. The trips enliven him, however, and, 
taken as they are on foot and by stage, furnish the 
theme for many a curious comment. 

The months move swiftly on, and we come now to 
December, 1835, where he playfully alludes to himself 
thus: “It seems that you hear of some of the zamor- 
tal honors bestowed upon mein college. Yes! to take 
the first prize among forty noble writers!! O, it is 
enough to make a frog swell into an ox.” And why 
should he not take real joy in this achievement? We 
suspect there was an humble exultation underneath 
the careless play of speech, and particularly, as in the 
same letter he goes back so naturally to the days of 
childhood. We present the picture of the old-time 
home as he has given it, and of the guileless boy, 
whose appellations, somewhat uncouth as they sound 
to-day, were as respectful then as those we choose to 
call polite. | 








FROM SCHOOL TO PULFIT. 21 


“But a little while ago I was just beginning to 
make marks with a pen, and longing for the time when 
‘I should be ‘ big enough’ to cypher. With what pleas- 

ure did I then sally forth, on such a morning as this, 
with John and Lyman and Abner, and all the boys, to 
sport on the ice, with only two fears to damp our joys, 
viz.: that we should be scolded for wearing out-our 
shoes, and that ‘ Uncle Buel’ would drive us out of his 
meadow. And then when the snow was too deep for 
my short legs, (which have now become so long as to 
surpass all snow drifts), I used to parch corn, or play 
checkers, or try to urge you or Polly to keep school, 
while I would hang upon the south-room closet door 
the end of the gourd handle, which I had mischievously 
‘taken from the spinning-wheel for a bell. And then, 
what pleasure I anticipated from those great ‘slap- 
jacks’ that we were to have for supper. What a fes- 
tive board was that! I can almost see that great pew- 
ter platter heaped up with ‘slap-jacks,’ well buttered, 
and cut like pieces of pie, standing in the middle of 
our long table; on one side a plate of dried beef, and 
on the other a plate of cheese; at one enda glass of 
cider, and at the other a pitcher; and myself just old 
enough to have my place between ‘Daddy’ and 
‘Mammy, and take a seat below Garry in the neigh- 
borhood of the bread-server and tea-pot. O those 
were golden days! but they are gone forever. I then 
thought that I had but little more to learn. Now 
years have passed away, and all things are changed. 
I have discovered my ignorance and resumed, in my 
‘old age, the business of childhood.’ 


22 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


The ladder of learning is being slowly climbed. 
Mr. Morris quite likely sees a contrast between his 
early surroundings and those of the present, as affect- 
ing the nobler things which he is intent to reach. 
But he has not cast off the old habits of frugality. 
They are largely from necessity, and partly, no doubt, 
from choice. Nor is he without companions in his- 
economical attempts. Here is his account of living at 
one period of the college course: ‘I have become 
quite a temperance man. I am boarding ina club. 
We use neither tea nor coffee, drink nothing but cold 
water. We use but very little meat or butter, but 
molasses in abundance. We usually have hasty-pud- 
ding and molasses, or boiled rice and molasses, and 
bread for breakfast and supper, and codfish and pota- 
toes for dinner. We sometimes, however, have 
roasted or boiled meat for dinner. We live so for two 
reasons, Ist, it is better for health, 2d, i as eminen 
cheaper. Each of us gives the woman 30 cents per 
week for cooking, the use of dishes, etc. She does 
not bake for us, we buy our bread of a baker.” 

Mr. Morris graduated from Yale College in August, 
1837, receiving as his parting -honor the second 
appointment, or salutatory.. But he had been for 
some time principal of Bacon Academy, in Colchester, 
Conn., having secured the place through recommenda- 
tion of the faculty of the college, in January. This 
was a position calculated to bring into play his utmost 
powers. Bacon Academy was the institution of the 
- town, and its principal the ‘‘ observed of all observers.”’ 








FROM SCHOOL TO PULPIT. 23 


It had at this time about three hundred pupils, with 
four or five subordinate teachers, and was quite popu- 
“lar as a school in which to fit for college. It had a 
supporting fund of $35,000, and was free for the youth 
of Colchester, but its numbers were gathered from 
widely scattered sections of the country, many from 
the South. Those from out of town were considered 
as largely under the care of the principal, who, being 
necessarily brought much into contact also with the 
parents of the local pupils, had his ample share of 
responsibility. Mr. Morris was twice in charge of 
this Academy, from Feb. 1, 1837, to the close of the 
summer term in 1838, and from March, 1840, to the 
close of the summer term in 1843. In the interim he 
was instructor of ‘‘ Mathematics, Natural Philosophy, 
and Scientific and Fractical Agriculture,” at the 
Teachers Academy, Andover, Mass. His classes 
were taught in practical surveying, and a farm con- 
nected with the institution afforded an opportunity for 
carrying out the training in the agricultural direction. 

At Colchester, being much younger than his pre- 
decessor, Mr. Morris: naturally found some admirers 
among the lady pupils. At the home of one of these 
he boarded, for in the term time the village was full of 
boarders and each household took its share. Under 
these circumstances. acquaintance went on rapidly. 
The young lady writes to her brother, April 30, 1837: 
“Mr. Morris is very much liked as a teacher,” and 
adds girlishly, for she was then just turned seventeen, 
‘some naturally occurring thoughts as to possibilities 


24. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


— not for herself. Strange world this is! Before her 
eighteenth birthday came she was his wife, and writing 
to this same brother an account of the marriage of his 
‘little sister,” Julia Avery. She too was from minis- 
terial stock, being the great-great-grand-daughter of 
Rev. John Owen of Center Groton, Conn., who was 
the son of Rev. John Owen, from Braintree, England, 
who in turn was the son of John Owen, D.D., the 
‘“ereat dissenter,’ and prominent theological writer, 
chaplain to Oliver Cromwell. 
While at Colchester and Andover Mr. Morris im- 
proved all the extra time at his command in studying. 
He is not sure that teaching shall be his life-work. 
Not until July, 1839, do we find him consulting Dr. 
Edwards, at Andover, in regard to studying theology. 
In March, 1840, his journal records, “I am determined 
now to commence a short course of ecclesiastical his- 
tory, and then, if prospects remain unchanged, take 
some system of theology.” John L. Taylor has been 
his friend and correspondent from boyhood, and he 
consults him as to books, pursuing his studies quietly, 
yet with persistence. His efforts at gaining time are 
often quite amusing. Dec. 23, 1636) aieuweeuraen 
“Rose at 34 this morning and studied French, — 
accomplished more before breakfast than I should have 
done in the whole day to have risen at 74. If one 
gains three hours a day for study by early rising, that 
will be a whole half year, at the rate of six hours a day, 
about enough for one to study. If this time were 
devoted to the study of languages, one new language 








FROM SCHOOL TO PULPIT. 25 


might be learned each year; or if to reading, what an 
_ immense fund of information might be acquired. How 
much of our lives we throw away! And how impor- 
tant that children should be taught to rise early.” 

Dec. 26th, he writes: “Rose at 44, but soon found 
myself too dull to study to advantage; felt somewhat 
exhilirated by the idea of having risen early, which 
pleasure could not have been experienced by lying late 
in bed. I laid aside my French and took up a novel, 
‘Harry O’Reardon,’ illustrating Irish feelings. Read 
this to advantage — became so interested that I fin- 
ished it this afternoon. Such a change, when one is 
dull or indisposed, improves the mind more than the 
vain attempt to study, and relieves it more than 
idleness.” | 

All through the winter months he rises at 5, at 
34, at 4, at 3, and pursues his French and Greek, his 
readings on the “Divinity of Christ” and kindred 
themes, many times finding himself ‘too sleepy” and 
“too dull” to make the most of these repeated pilfer- 
ings of time. 

It may be said here that one of the peculiar cus- 
toms which Mr. Morris found in vogue at Bacon 
Academy, was that of having recitations at 5 o’clock 
in the morning, the avowed object being to induce 
early rising. This worked well for those who wished 
to get their boarders out of bed, but was not popu- 
lar among the citizens who sent their own children 
to the school, so after the first three summers he 
abandoned the plan, mainly on his own accountability. 

4 


26 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


Having started housekeeping, the family now try 
their hands at taking boarders, and Mr. Morris finally 
adds farming. There are difficulties in the way of 
combining diverse occupations. The pigs get out in 
the morning, the cows of the neighbors break into the 
corn during the school hours, and those belonging to 
the tired principal run away at night. There are — 
fences to make, and barns to be repaired, the horse 
gets cast; and sameness in the daily routine is cer- 
tainly avoided. July, 1841, Mr. Morris has an acre of 
potatoes, one of corn, two acres of oats, some turnips 
and beets, two cows, one horse, three pigs, ten fowls,. 
and fifty chickens which are meeting sundry adverse 
fates. | 3 

In the fall of 1843, Mr. Morris’ connection with 
Bacon Academy having been severed by his resigna- 
tion, he is licensed to preach by the Association of 
New London County. From this time until January, 
1845, he is engaged in farming, teaching private 
pupils, and supplying various pulpits. Then, leaving 
Colchester, he teaches the Academy at Norwich Town 
two terms, from January to September, and closes his 
services in this peculiar department of instruction. 
Henceforward his efforts are to be directed in the 
channel toward which his life has sensibly been tend- 
ing since the time he bid good-bye to the old home 
and farm at Warren. 








Helle 


In THE PULPIT AND OvutT, 1846 TO 1886. 


April 15, 1846, Mr. Morris was ordained pastor of 
the Congregational church in North Stonington, 
Conn., having preached there seven Sundays pre- 
viously, mostly during the winter. His settlement in 
that place is traced by Rev. Thomas L. Shipman of 
Jewett City, Conn., in a letter which he sends us, toa 
circumstance, trifling in itself, which yet turned for 
life the fluctuating tide ; for candidating and supply- 
ing were becoming a weariness and a discouragement. 
A ministers’ meeting was to be held at New London. 
Mr. Morris had not planned to attend. He was then 
living at Norwich Town. Rev. Joseph Ayer, then of 
Hanover, who himself had been settled at North Ston- 
ington from 1825 to 1837, stopped in on his way and 
found Mr. Morris in the cellar laying down his winter 
supply of pork. Being urged to accompany Mr. 
Ayer, Mr. Morris consented, and preached at the New 
London meeting. Maj. T. W. Williams heard the 
sermon and suggested to his brother, Gen. Wm. 
Willams of Norwich, that Mr. Morris would be a 
good man for the North Stonington or “ Milltown” 
church, they being natives of the place and much 


28 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. . 


interested in all its affairs. The end of it all was that 
he received the call, accepted, and remained to preach 
six years, during which time a new church was built 
and a new parsonage commenced, to be occupied, 
however, as affairs turned, by Mr. Morris's successor. 
The sermon alluded to was from 1st Timothy, iii, 
15: ‘The church of the living God, the pillar and 
ground of the truth.” Mr. Shipman recalls that it 
was lost from the carriage on the return trip from New 
London, recovered by himself, and we find that it was 
used on several occasions. 

Mr. Morris did not like often to repeat his sermons. 
The first one written was delivered at Colchester, 
Oct. 1, 1843, and was several times called upon. Its 
repetition was not always a success, as we learn from 
his journal. He says of it on one occasion, ‘ Preached 
the first sermon I ever wrote, but failed to be inter- 
ested myself, or to interest others. So I skipped over 
several places, and stopped six pages short of the 
etre ee 
There were no marked incidents in Mr. Morris's 
stay at North Stonington. Respect for the house of 
God, which had lamentably depreciated, was gradually 
increased. Family quarrels of long standing were 
somewhat smoothedaway. Interest in all good things 
was slowly becoming more manifest. The attach- 
ment of pastor and people, so necessary and so delight- 
ful, grew. But the three children were coming up 
rapidly and Mr. Morris was anxious to bring them 
under the best influences and to give them such an 








IN THE PULPIT AND OUT. 29 


education as could not well be obtained should the 
family remain where they were. For this and other 
reasons he became much perplexed about what course 
he should pursue. In 1851 two calls were received 
from the Congregational church in West Hartford, 
Conn., also a call to candidate in Bath, Me., anda pro- 
position to take the Hartford High School. These 
were all declined. June 4, 1852, came a third call 
from West Hartford, which was accepted. There 
were many mourners in Milltown. Were they and 
their pastor not in full accord? Was not the new 
parsonage almost ready? Mr. Morris’s plans were 
always conducted fairly with his people. From these 
good friends he had accepted much, yet with a perfect 
understanding. He had urged improvements, not for 
his own sake, but because they should be made. He 
greeted all with hearty welcome when they came with 
gifts, at the same time “telling them plainly,” as was 
his wont, that such things must not interfere in any 
way with his “faithful dealing” toward them. Inde- 
pendence was his motto and frankness made it easy, 
so, despite the heartfelt kindnesses, the tender ties, the 
waiting parsonage and all, decision was made as duty 
seemed to call. 

On July 1, 1852, Mr. Morris commenced his pastor- 
ate at West Hartford. Here was the scene of many 
changes. His wife, Julia, who had shared with him 
till now his joys and trials since college days, here was 
laid in last repose. Here a daughter and a son found 
partners for life’s pilgrimage, and grandchildren grew 


3C BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


up. Here was his second marriage, and here, beside 
two little nameless infant graves, was buried George, 
almost a man in stature, at fifteen years of age. The 
uncertain steps which had led thus far were now to 
find a straighter course. Here was to be home, 
though none could see it at the first. | 3 
Mr. Morris was the eighth pastor of the West 
Hartford church, his predecessors having been as 


follows: 
Rev. BENJAMIN COLTON, 
Ordained February 24, 1713, -Died March 1, 1759. 
Rev. NATHANAEL HOOKER, JR., 
Ordained December 21, 1757, Died June I1, 1770. 
Rev. NATHAN PERKINS, D.D., 
Ordained October 14, 1772, Died January 15, 1838. 
Rev. CALEB S. HENRY, 
Installed colleague June 12, 1833, | Dismissed March 25, 1835. 
Rev. EDWARD W. ANDREWS, 
Ordained colleague Nov. 15, 1837, Dismissed Dec. 22, 1840. - 
Rev. GEORGE I. Woop, 


Installed November 9, 1841, Dismissed June 5, 1844. 
Rev. Dwicut M. SEWARD, 
Installed January 14, 1845, Dismissed Dec. 18, 1850. 


The Congregational church was then the only one 
in the place, the Episcopal being built in 1853, 
and the Baptist in 1858. An unwonted spectacle met 
the minister’s family on the Sunday of their first 
appearance here. ‘The old horse-sheds then stood just 
north of the parsonage, and the little “vestry ” was 
on the corner. A few more horse-sheds were south 
of the church, the old white church, remember, now 
the Town Hall. The park was fenced, as were the 








INS THE PUnPIT AND OUT. 31 


yards all up and down which now open on the street. 
As the hour for service approached, the wagons came 
_ pouring in from east and west and north and south. 
The vacant sheds were filled up rapidly. Around the 
park the horses stamped in long stretched lines. 
The scattered hitching-posts and trees did duty, and 
the fences lent their aid away up beyond the old brick 
school-house. It was an imposing sight. We began 
to realize that this was the “Center” of a wide-spread 
town. But sight-seeing was not for the minister's 
family alone. They were to be seen. ‘So on they 
came, the tall, grave, smooth-faced man, his slight > 
wife, with. modest mien, a round-cheeked girl, a mis- 
chievous, red-haired boy, and a pale-browed, solemn 
little fellow ; all clad /in decent order, and marching 
in review before the interested citizens of the door- 
step, up the broad aisle, and into the front seat appor- 
tioned always to the pastor’s use. How high the 
yellow pulpit rose! for all the space was used, to the 
last inch of floor-room, close to the brink of that dread 
desk. And how grand the choir was! “Uncle 
Thomas” Brace leading with his violin, a host on either 
side, and the “ double-bass ” viol sawing mightily in the 
rear. And what men were there? Capt. Mills, Capt. 
Semen, Capt, Place, Dea. Selden, Dea. Mitchell, Dea. 
Cone, Dea. Colton, Dea. Griswold, the Sedgwicks, the 
Elmers, the Whitings, the Gridleys, a Colonel, a Doc- 
tor; howbig they were! Titled and untitled, heads of 
families and children, they formed a goodly array. 
Each family sat in its own established pew, its property, 
And what a time, later, in giving up those pews! 


32 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


“Donation Parties” were well established here, as 
they had been in Milltown. When the time came 
‘round the people gathered witha will. They “brought 
gifts” and laid them in the parsonage and about the 
doors. <A letter written by Mrs. Julia Morris to a 
friend, giving an account of one of these memorable 
events, will be interesting to peruse just here. Many 
will remember the peculiar incidents, and through ~ 
them perhaps recall the actors. ‘The account says 
that the people took advantage of fine sleighing and a 
full moon; about four in the afternoon “they began 
to pour in.” We quote the letter: 


Just at candle-light the first call was given to “come to tea.” 
The table reached the whole length of the dining-room, and was 
loaded with the best which the West Hartford ladies could pro- 
duce. There was a quantity of cake and biscuit. Some very 
nice apples, too, were set on, which helped to make a show. We 
sat down around the table, as thick as we could sit comfortably, 
and the tea and coffee was brought in from the kitchen and 
passed to each one. As soon as the first table-full had finished, 
the plates were changed and another set came and took their 
places, then another, and another, until all had been served. 
Then the tables were put away, and they visited, talked, laughed, 
and played, had several heads examined by a young Phrenologist 
that was here, sung some, and played on the melodeon. 

Between eight and nine they were called to order, and the choir 
sung the good old hymn, “ Blest be the tie that binds,” then they 
all listened to a short address from their Pastor, and a prayer. 

More music was called for, and there was a young lady found 
who could play quite well on the melodeon. She commenced 
playing and singing, and the crowd gathered nearer and nearer 
to her, to listen. The instrument stood in the middle of the 
dining-room, and very soon the room was filled as full as it could 








IN. THE PULPIT AND OUT. 33 


hold. On went the music, till suddenly a voice was raised at the 
door of our bed-room, calling, “Gentlemen! gentlemen!” I was 

‘then standing in a chair, surveying the crowd, and as I turned 
towards the voice, 1 saw Mr. Morris, with a very earnest look, 
making an effort to get the attention of all to some very important 
information. He says, “Gentlemen! I wish to put in a word. 
There is no occasion for alarm, but I wish to tell you that ¢hzs 
floor has settled about three inches, and some of those standing 
here had better scatter gently to some of the other rooms.” At 
this some laughed, others looked a little wild, and some seemed 
altogether indifferent, but most of them obeyed the advice to 
move off from the bending floor. They did it gextly, according 
to orders, and no one was injured. A few still lingered about the 
music, the others enjoyed themselves in the other rooms as long 
as they pleased, and about ten the party broke up. There were 
probably over two hundred here. Some thought there were two 
hundred and fifty. They all seemed to enjoy it highly, and said 
it was the /arges¢ party they had ever had here. 

And now you will ask, what did they leave behind them? 
Seven loads of wood to keep us warm, seven brooms to keep us 
clean, a lot of spare-ribs, a pork ham, a beef ham and a chicken, 
to keep us fat, a lot of butter and lard to smooth the way down 
our throats for all the other good things, some candles to cheer 
up our evenings, and to eat our nice apples and walnuts by, a 
good, stout pair of cotton sheets, a white cravat for the minister, 
and forty dollars cash to add to his stock of books — two large, 
valuable books were given him besides. The boys had a present 
of some live hens, with corn and oats to feed them. The biscuit 
we had left lasted a week and a half, and the cake will hold out a 
great while. I counted sixteen loaves the day after the party. 
Have distributed some of them around since. If you and P. 
were near enough, and H. too, you should each have a loaf. A 
lot of nice sweet-meats, too, stand side of the other good things, 
-which I shall keep for special occasions. Mother and sister N. 
came over and helped us through. 


5 


34 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


Besides the articles mentioned, there were sausages, 
potatoes, a pair of slippers, a testament, and one load 
of wood, which slipped out of the account. Of meat 
there were forty-five and one-half pounds, butter forty- 
two pounds, lard fourteen pounds, apples three and 
one-half bushels, and so on. That was a royal party, 
and showed a generous spirit, which continued long 
after this peculiar “ordinance ” had ceased to be. 

These gatherings were annual, and there was a 
frequent interchange of hospitalities throughout the 
year, which helped pastor and parishioners to under- 
‘stand each other. But there were no two sides turned 
toward the people. Anything which Mr. Morris con- 
‘sidered to be wrong was wrong, first, last, and always. 
The people were found to be large raisers of tobacco, 
which practice did not meet his favor. He was of the 
opinion that were it not so profitable, pecuniarily, 
many of the people themselves would leave off raising 
~the crop on principle, and, while believing that such 
were naturally much injured in their Christian charac- 
ter, he was anxious that the others also should be con- 
verted from the error of their ways. So against 
tobacco was war waged in public and in private, but 
after some years of effort, largely fruitless, not so 
much was said. He had done his duty, let others 
decide as to their own. 

When the Baptist Society was organized, there was 
much religious interest throughout the place. A good 
many of the young people were not sure that their 


‘fathers’ views were right upon the disputed point, still _ 7 








INSTHE PULPIT: AND GUT. 35 


they were reluctant to draw away from the old, familiar 
fold. Mr. Morris consented to immerse such as were 
of this mind, believing that none should do violence 
to his own persuasion on such a matter of debate. So 
down the river, their church not being completed, the 
Baptists immersed their converts, and up the river the 
Congregationalists were immersed, some of them, we 
well remember, in a heavy thunder shower. This 
started up the critics. It could not be otherwise. 
But they were not feared. 

When the war arose, there came another struggle. 
“Politics in the pulpit” were loudly denounced, but 
they went right on. Listeners felt their blood thrill, 
and their fingers tingled, and feet rose involuntarily 
from the floor. Such scenes were witnessed as West 
Hartford had not thought to see. The sound of drum 
and fife was heard, and from Camp Lincoln yonder 
came blue-coated men marching in to fill the church 
on Sunday. Not all were pleased. Some of Mr. 
Morris’ congregation refused to take his hand in 
friendly greeting. Some went so far as not to recog- 
nize him on the street, and some pitied him for his 
strange ideas. Still the faithful preacher urged them 
on to Christian duty and to patriotism, smiling quietly 
at all these freaks, and trusting to time to right all 
troubles. And they were righted. All shook hands 
at last, for no mere spite had urged those warlike 
words, 

Speaking of these times, he says, after alluding to 
one of his acquaintance who has ‘‘spoken mildly,” and 
found it necessary therefore to resign : 


* 


36 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


“For myself, I preach very plainly on the subject, 
and a few are raving, and threatening to get me 
removed, but the main part of my people are right. 
My freedom of speech, in the pulpit and out of it, 
shall not be hampered. When I cannot be my own 
judge of what I shall preach, without dictation from 
any man, I will retire from the ministry.” And he 
had said, long before, in school days, which shows the 
care he used, along with independence: ‘‘ You see we 
have the elements of combustion which it requires the 
most consummate prudence to keep from taking fire. 
The course I take is to hoid myself ready to leave at 
any time, and then pursue my own course. fearlessly, 
without regard to fear or favor. I know that I some- 
times throw sparks among gunpowder, but my deter- 
mination is, when it becomes’ necessary to mince 
words in my business, to leave it. My ows judgment, 
though weak in may be, is best for my use.” Nit 

The largest additions to the church membership 
under Morris’s pastorate were in the years 1858 and 
1867. In 1858 fifty-nine united, only four of them by 
letter; and in 1867, in which year the church was 
favored with the services of Rev. J. D. Potter, the 
evangelist, there were seventy-six additions by profes- 
sion and ten by letter. Mr. Morris was not over-given 
to “revivalist” methods. In matters of conscience his 
own nature did not wait for impulse, nor was he easily 
turned about by seasons of excitement. He preferred, 
therefore, that others should weigh carefully their duty 
and come to their conclusions with intelligence and 








IN THE PULPIT AND OUT. ae 


due deliberation. Not averse, however, to methods 
other than his own, he hailed with hearty welcome any 
instrumentality which he was convinced would bring 
about a good result. At the time of Mr. Potter’s 
preaching some of the younger people hesitated about 
making their good intentions known, because, they 
said, their present attitude in matters of religion was 
owing largely to Mr. Morris’s faithful presentation of 
truth through previous years, and they did not wish 
to seem “unfair” in yielding to the entreaties of 
another. Mr. Morris and Mr. Potter fully coincided, 
however, that “God should have the glory.” Far was 
it from the desire of either that human agency should 
_ be unworthily extolled. 

After having considered many times the subject of 
retiring from his ministerial charge, Mr. Morris offered 
his final resignation October 11, 1874. A council was 
called April 27, 1875, which, after much deliberation, 
declared the pastoral relation dissolved. Many reasons 
led to this step. Mr. Morris had suffered much from 
ill health and did not deem it wise to retain his con- 
nection with the pulpit unless able to give his people 
a full and conscientious service. His voice had 
become affected in such a way as to cause him much 
annoyance by breaking down suddenly. <A_ peculiar 
difficulty with his teeth, which could not be obviated 
by ordinary expedients, threatened to interfere. seri- 
ously with his articulation. He was sensitive on 
these points, but, more than this, he queried whether 
the spiritual condition of the place would not be bene- 


38 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


fited by the appearance of a new man upon the scene, 
— whether some one younger might not gain access to 
hearts which seemed closed to his appeals. He shrank, 
too, from the possibility of being exdured as years 
should come upon him. His desire was rather to 
retire at such time as he might retain the love and 
respect of those who had known him as their pastor. 

In 1865, ten years before, he had proposed to sever 
his connection, but a petition requesting him to remain 
was circulated, and returned with 216 signatures — 
affixed, which, in connection with other circumstances, 
indicated so plainly the will of the people that he con- 
sented to remain. Now, when it was fully determined 
that the time of separation had come, so far as his pecu- 
liar relation to the church was concerned, the people 
resolved to make a decided effort to retain him as a 
citizen. Accordingly a generous subscription of money 
was raised and presented to him as a mark of their 
esteem, with the request that he make his home among 
them. The token was accepted, and the sum invested 
in a beautiful building lot, on which was soon erected 
the comfortable home in which the remainder of his 
life was spent. The lot was part of the Whitman 
estate, adjoining the old Whitman homestead, on 
which Mrs. Morris’s relatives are still residing. 

After retiring from the pulpit, Mr. Morris devoted 
himself to work connected with the various benevolent 
associations, to the interests of Yale College, to the 
Corporation of which he had been elected in July, 1867; 
following the removal, by death, of the venerable Joel — 





IN THE PULPIT AND OUT. 39 


Hawes, D.D., of Hartford, to a more leisurely occupa- 
tion of study and reading, and to the care of his place, 
which he had stocked with an abundance of things 
conducing to beauty and comfort. He was also much 
given in the latter years to the collection of genealo- 
gies, for which he felt a growing fondness. His ex- 
tended pastorate of two churches, his deep interest in 
scholars who had gone out from his teaching, and his 
otherwise large acquaintance, gave him a wide field to. 
work in, and furnished “wheels within wheels,” which 
revolved with no end of pleasant complications 

Rev. Franklin S. Hatch was ordained pastor, follow- 
ing Mr. Morris, June 7, 1876, and served until his 
resignation, October 18, 1883. Rev. Henry B. Roberts 
was then installed, December 20, 1883. Mr. Morris 
was a constant attendant under both these pastors, 
and was for most of the time, from his resignation 
until his death, July 9, 1885, the teacher of a large 
Bible class in the Sunday-school. 

He had been elected, in 1872, to represent his town 
in the Legislature, and was appointed by that body to 
the Committee on Education. In 1875 he was again 
chosen Representative, and was appointed to.the Com- 
mittee on Insurance. He was also on the Board of 
School Visitors in West Hartford for many years. 





Home Lire. — TRAITS OF THE MAN: 


No view is quite complete which does not show the 
man at home. That side of life which comes before 
the public, and that other which his nearer friends 
may see, are not distinct They merge and mingle, 
and may be explained one by the other. How shall 
we speak? the question comes again; but we have 
already trodden, as it were, on hallowed ground. With — 
strange emotions and unaccustomed hand did we first 
turn the key upon the places kept through these long 
years for the eye alone of him whose sketch we write. 
What was there we had only fairly guessed, for Mr. 
Morris did not open his private matters much, even to 
those his next of kin. The life is now made up. In 
one sense it is ours. But we would not throw open 
wantonly these doors. “ate 

Mr. Morris was a systematic man. There was no 
negligence or hap-hazard in his method anywhere. 
He always had a plan, and, for himself or others, this 
meant much. He laid his course by rule, and followed 
it. As for his household, there need be no jarring if 
they too could see that such a way was best. LE lastic- 
ity of purpose and facility of change were foreign to 








TRAITS OF THE MAN. 4I 


his nature. Away back in November, 1840, do we 
find this entry in his journal:.‘‘Have spent most of 
‘the day reading, doing errands, etc. After all, I have 
not accomplished much yesterday and to-day, probably 
for want of a plan. Whenever you have a holiday, or 
any leisure time, and wish for the highest enjoyment, 
never fail to have some definite business, either study, 
or reading, —light reading, if you please, or an excur- 
sion, and then attend to it, and avoid indolence and 
running from one thing to another. What feeling can 
be more uncomfortable than the consciousness of having 
misspent our time? But when one has spent the day 
well, he has not only been out of the way of many temp- 
tations, but is armed with resolution and strength for 
future good.’’ He was) a believer in great governing 
maxims, wide in application, and no matter was too 
small on which to found them, or by means of which 
to show their virtue. He says in an early record: 
‘“‘Paid to-day a small sum in the most foolish manner 
possible — for keeping books three days too long from 
library. The sum was insignificant, but the careless- 
ness was reproachable.”’ Never, for himself or for 
his children, were the consequences of deviation from 
the “strait and narrow way” too faintly pictured. But 
in later life his thought was milder, and many fitting 
exceptions were doubtless seen to close-drawn rules. 
He was a cautious man, prudent in every thought 
and plan. Discretion marked his words and figured 
in his every act. Did some one ask for commenda- 
tion? It was given sparingly, never going beyond 
6 


42 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


what might be fully substantiated by his knowledge of 
the case. Praise was not lavish. In this a few words 
went for much. Was some new enterprise suggested? 
What was it for? What did it mean, down at the 
heart of it? Would the management bring forth the 
desired result? Courage was mingled with this trait, 
but was it overweighed? Sometimes it almost seemed 
so, yet it was mainly in the seeming. During his 
years of preaching Mr. Morris generally refrained 
from voting at the town elections. This, in one view, 
looked strange. But, realizing the peculiarity of his 
position as, in a sense, the head of one vast family, he 
did not wish to put himself in thé aspect of taking 
sides for or against those whose spiritual interests he 
had most at heart, but preferred to trust them to the 
management of their local affairs, reserving his vote 
for more weighty occasions. 

He was an exact and accurate man. His figures 
could be trusted, whether of debts or dues. Just right 
was always better than “near enough.” Was his bill 
“about”? so much? He wanted to know how much, 
and it should be paid. If change could not be made 
to-day, to-morrow would see him bringing down the 
extra coppers. If a member of the family laid out no 
matter how small a sum for family expenses, he should 
be reimbursed at once, and the amount set to its proper 
place. No running debts were kept upon his books. 
He knew always how he stood. When the project of 
building a new church at West Hartford was agitated, 
Mr. Morris viewed it with disfavor. He prophesied a 








TRAITS OF THE MAN. 43 


large expense, and put it quite correctly, too. But 
when he saw that the people were in earnest, he too 
‘subscribed a generous amount, yet with the condition, 
expressed in writing, that none of it should be paid 
unless “the building shall be completed and furnished 
and the grounds graded, without a debt remaining.” 
Mr. Morris was minute, explicit in his habits of 
mind, and particularly in his private memoranda. 
Soon after graduation from college his journals com- 
mence, and from these the records branch and widen 
until they cover a great variety of public and private. 
matter. They are classed, divided, subdivided. Turn 
to the proper page and you have explained the most 
important, or apparently the most trifling, affairs which 
have come up in the Jong course from first to last. 
Did he carry on farming? The books would say what 
No. 1, the garden, paid in profit above the expenses 
of ploughing, seeds, and labor, though the crop were 
consumed or sold; what No. 2, the house lot, paid in 
hay and pasturing ; what No. 5 fell short on oats. If 
cows paid, or swine were a failure, the books showed 
it. It was known how much it cost to keep a horse, 
with shoeing, repairing of wagons and harness, and all 
incidentals duly reckoned. As for family expenses, 
they were classified to show the cost of clothing, fuel, 
flour, meat, lights, etc., etc, and that there might be 
no mistake, Mr. Morris, after entering the ministry, 
kept a careful record of presents received from the 
people, with the market value of necessaries carried 
out and footed up. These things, bought, would have 


“ 


44 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


cost money, and to enjoy high living while in the min- 
istry, without knowing the cost that would be under 
different conditions, would have been rash indeed. 
And more than this. An account was kept of 
‘“kindnesses received,” long, long lists, as pleasant 
reminders, but where they saved an outlay these items 
were carried out in figures representing the value to 
the recipient. So much for just a peep into the won- 
ders of the records. / 
That Mr. Morris had somehow nroaaeeae in affairs 
of finance was a thing too evident not to be discovered 
by those among whom he daily moved. How could it 
be? It was told them, upon his leaving the pulpit, 
that the family expenses during twenty-two and a half 
years of his service, which he had carefully footed up, 
. had been less than his receipts from salary by only 
$43.74, to which should be added marriage fees and 
other generous gifts in money. The secret was simple 
enough. A plan adopted from the first was to /zve 
qwzthin his income at all hazards, be it small or large, 
and to lay up something from the entzre receipts each 
year. So, long ago, a little pile was growing slowly. 
By and by there was interest money to swell receipts. 
Later some fortunate investments were made, but all 
the time he lived, not only within his entire income, 
but within his actual salary, so the case is clear to all 
who understand the laws of increase. Of course he 
must have had a faculty for “‘managing,” which was 
perhaps developing when the small boy out at Warren 
was peddling gingerbread and cider on training days. 








TRAITS OF THE MAN. 45 


One important matter must not be overlooked. -In 
all the plans the fact of stewardship for the Master 
was kept in mind. From every source of income a 
definite per cent. was laid by for uses of benevolence. 
Not merely was a memorandum kept. The money 
was actually set aside, and there remained to be drawn 
upon. There was no accidental “coming short” in 
cases of emergency. The cash was there, and as 
faithfully guarded as would be any fund in trust. If 
perchance a few dollars were borrowed from the 
benevolence-box, to make change, or for any purpose, 
they were paid promptly back according to the charge. 
What if income should fail? Should benevolence 
cease?» This was guarded against by still another 
fund, deposited separately from all other money, 
marked ‘“‘ For Benevolence,” and kept slowly growing, 
and this was sacred to its own peculiar use. : 

He was a good provider. Good quality he always 
liked, and was disposed to purchase in quantity such 
things as were needed for current use. To find the 
family suddenly “out” of any article of daily use was 
to discover gross remissness on his own part. Let it 
not be supposed that mistakes did not sometimes 
creep in among the careful purchases. But they were 
atoned for. They must endure. Alteration or ex- 
change were seldom thought of or allowed. Such 
things as he selected were likely to endure. He was 
a man of size, and numerous relics do we call to mind 
which seemed to have been chosen with a view to 
match the frame and muscle of his robust days. 


46 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


Who can not yet recall the high, wide-axled carriage 
which went the rounds of his first visits in West Hart- 
ford, and utterly refused to show the signs of wear, 
though it had served before in several townships? 
The great, broad hoe and the powerful axe are still 
preserved, and the cloth of the old blue cloak, long 
worn and longer laid away, is still good for several 
makings-over. With its broad cape, it used te make 
him look like several Napoleons merged in one. And — 
what he had was kept in order. His garden was 
always good. On one occasion he writes of a new 
place thus: ‘“‘We have a large garden, but apparently 
impoverished. The fences, too, about our premises 
are in ruins, and also the barn. And what is more, I 
am unable to ascertain where are the limits of my 
domains, and moreover, I know not who has the control 
of these things.” In such a case as this Mr. Morris 
was truly ‘‘worried.” It was unpleasant for him to” 
enforce others to the fulfillment of their obligations, 
but the annoyances occasioned by others’ negligence 
were keenly felt, to the “more and moreover” which 
disquieted his mind. ) 

Justice and impartiality were in all his acts. He 
was equitable beyond what the most punctilious might 
require. In the matter of gifts and favors his children 
were treated scrupulously alike. Any seeming differ- 
ence was in the end made good by a purpose origin- 
ally laid. Birthday and Christmas-time must not be 
run at hazard. Even generosity must have a curb. 
It must be toned with justice. 








TRAITS OF THE MAN. 47 


Mr. Morris was no meddler with the affairs of 
others. From their private concerns he held himself 
aloof ; he had no desire to pry into secrets or to volun- 
-teer advice, or to be the recipient of complaints, or 
to be on one side or the other in the case of contend- 
ing parties having each his private grievance. If they 
wished it, he was not averse to looking over matters 
with a view to reconciling differences and making 
peace, but let them not expect to gain him over to 
perpetuate a strife. If he believed a person, in any 
case, to be entirely wrong, his message was to him 
and not to his neighbor. Outspoken as he was, when 
occasion so required, he had a rare faculty for guard- 
ing the “unruly member,” and surely no slander could 
be followed to his door. When called upon to take 
his part at the ordination of his successor, Rev. 
F. S. Hatch, he said, “The part assigned me by the 
council is a little delicate, for if you call it a ‘ Charge 
to the People,’ it is virtually giving a charge to one’s 
self. And yet Iam not sure but there is a peculiar 
fitness even in this. For if you can get an ex-pastor, 
who expects to reside among the people of his former 
charge, somehow to hedge himself around so that, as 
a parishioner to his successor, he will be compelled to 
keep within the bounds of Christian decency, —a 
somewhat difficult grace,—a great advantage is 
gained.” 

He did not like an underhanded way of coming at 
an object. With plenty of secretiveness in matters 
of his own, no one need fear a ‘‘scheme”’ when he 


48 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


moved business. Nor did he approve of the round- 
about method of communicating ideas which leaves 
people to zzfer one’s meaning. He “told them 
plainly.” Anything worth doing was to be done — 
openly and ‘“ above-board,” and in broad daylight. A 
‘surprise party,’ even, was to his mind a thing of 
questionable propriety. He would suffer it kindly, 
perhaps, if thrust upon himself, but to spring such a 
thing on others was far from any way of his. They 
should be notified, and asked if it would be convenient. 

The precision which we have noted, the care for 
every detail, and the conscientiousness which attended 
every act, were what gave Mr. Morris the reputation 
of being a “safe man.” In the small affairs of home 
it often seemed that his too rigid rules might easier 
be relaxed, while in matters of larger importance 
these habits of conception and execution led men to 
listen to his counsel. He looked on many sides 
before coming to a decision. The decision once 
reached was a mighty summing up. If indeed he 
yielded any ground, it was so done that one could 
scarce perceive the backward movement. And his 
advance was no more hasty. A remark of one of his 
parishioners, after he had passed away, brought up a 
vivid picture. ‘He measured his words,” said the 
parishioner; ‘when he got up, one wave of his hand, 
— you know how he used to do it, —meant more than 
they all could say.” We all know that wave of the 
- hand, and we know, too, the ominous indications 
which preceded it. They were not violent, but they 








TRAITS OF THE MAN. 49 


were strong. There was a straightening of the body, 
there was a movement or two of the head, perhaps a 
long breath taken, generally an uneasy lifting and 
dropping of the fingers, once, twice ; — ‘‘ what is it?” 
those would ask themselves who knew him best ;— 
and when he spoke—there was surely something said. 
Mr. Shipman says that the remarks made after Mr. 
Morris had arisen at the New London County Minis- 
ters Meetings were generally to this effect: ‘“ Brother 
Morris has expressed my views entirely,” and he adds, 
“he would never be called to order.” Indeed, how 
could he? with his manner of “taking in the situa- 
tion,” it was impossible. 

Though firm in thought, and fearless in his utter- 
ance, Mr. Morris’s habitual unobtrusiveness was. 
recognized by all. Whether this added to his influ- 
ence, or detracted from it, may be an open question. 
While not one to put himself forward, he made his 
presence felt. He would not grant even to the least 
of, men that they should hide their light. Here isa 
curious story which comes to us of his inculcations as 
to influence. Upon taking charge of a new school, 
Mr. Morris found great difficulty in getting its mem- 
bers to be prompt at the opening of the session. 
After exhausting all ordinary plans he told his pupils 
that hereafter he should say no more upon the subject, 
but put upon them the responsibility of the whole 
matter. They had a control, each of the other, which 
he could not exert upon them, and they must exercise 
it. If any were in future late, the whole school must 

7 


50 . BIOGRAPHICAL SS REG: 


remain to make up the time after the usual hour of 
closing. Of course, not foreseeing the lesson he was 
about to teach, they soon objected, but he told them, 
‘We all have an influence which we are responsible 
for exerting. If we do not exercise it we must suffer in 
consequence of such a failure.” And some of them 
remembered for many a year. A remark made by 
one of his pupils comes to mind in this connection as 
showing an impression which he made upon their 
minds. “He was not much for outside show, but his 
ideas were all first class.” | 

Mr. Morris’s affections were strong. His heart was 
kind, and his perception of the needs of others quick, 
but he was not one who would indulge in superfluity 
of demonstration. There was something which 
demanded that a little distance be observed. A child 
might pass the barrier, and when he did it was as 
though the strong were conquered by the weak. He 
could not talk to children as he wished. Much of his 
enjoyment passed in silence, which those might inter- 
pret who knew him best. And yet, never was he. 
quite without reserve. It varied with the occasions 
which called it forth In his ministerial work he felt 
the need of sympathy and codperation. It was hard . 
to labor on, as sometimes he did, without knowing 
whether he was heartily received and loved. Depre- 
ciating himself, as he was apt to do, he sometimes 
doubted unnecessarily in such a matter. Settled, as 
for most of his life, in the midst of quiet scenes, he 
missed incitement for his work. Though equipoised, 








TRAITS OF THE MAN. SI 


and self-contained, he needed contact with other 
natures which should rouse his depths. 

Mr. Morris had a love of humor, yet never was bois- 
terous in his merriment. We longed to hear him 
“roar” with gaiety unrestrained, but it was not his 
way. He would choke his laughter down until there 
was danger of internal rupture. Once set to work 
within him, the disturbing element made havoc; how 
much no stranger ever knew. 

He loved music, yet not to rapture. Sometimes he 
used to sing, and laugh at himself for his own attempts. 
He preferred to “join in the chorus” when the num- 
bers were large. In his younger days he used to play 
the flute, and after entering married life he and his 
wife would play duetts,—her part on the black flute, 
his on the yellow one, charming their small audience 
much. 

His temperament was not poetic. . The production 
must be good that would elicit his applause. He pre- 
ferred straightforward prose. One Sunday he left 
this entry in his journal: ‘“The sermon this Pp. M. was 
on the influences of spring; a kind of subject which I 
seldom take, and handled in a manner unusual with 
me. I quoted more poetry than I generally think ben- 
eficial, but this is not my besetting sin.” One of his 
favorite expressions when particularly impressed was, 
“QO poetree! O poetri!” and it was given with a 
peculiar swing well suited to the words. 

How many recollections throng upon us as we turn 
the years like well-worn pages before the memory! 


Com 
52 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


And where memory fails to reach, how vivid are the 
glimpses gained from many a yellowed sheet his youth- 
ful, vigorous hand has traced! Now youth, now mid- 
dle life, and age! How did his mind look back? Did 
it not find life stripped of many an adornment which 
its lively hope had pictured, and augmented by much 
which could not possibly have been foreseen? Age 
once reached is but as childhood, so has the landscape 
widened, and to be young or old is much as one may 
fancy. 

The impression is, as we look back, that Mr. Morris — 
came early to maturity, and, as compared with his own 
years, was in the habit of appearing, and felt, older 
than many other men. His friend, Rev. Samuel G. 
Willard, says of him: “My memory of him goes back — 
to the Wilton Academy, where Mr. Hawley Olmstead 
was our teacher, in the summer of 1832. He was then 
among the older pupils. But the same qualities of 
mind and heart distinguished him. Manliness and 
modesty, steadiness of purpose, clearness of under- 
standing, integrity and love for truth, sound sense, 
kindness and sobriety were his. Even at that early 
day he had attained the evenness and discretion of 
mature years.” : 

It is clear that when arranging for his education, 
and planning for a future all unknown, he had ambi- 
tion. Had his lines been laid amid less quiet scenes, 
or turned to different channels, life might have taken 
on more of lustre, according to the world’s eyes, yet 
none can tell. Rev. Mr Shipman, whose genial pen 








TRAITS OF THE MAN. i 1533 


’ 


we love to quote, says: ‘It is no slander to say that 
he lacked those popular qualities which are so much 
sought by metropolitan churches, but the failure of the 
brilliant was far more than compensated by superiority 
in the solid.”” He did not seek praise, yet loved to be 
appreciated. Far beyond this mortal course was where 
he looked for approbation. The guerdon which he 
sought could not be matched by any earthly glory, nor 
could its beckoning light be dimmed by any season of 
despondency. The Providence he trusted was not 
alone the Guide of great concerns, but of the small 
affairs of men. Early in his letters this appears, and 
runs unerringly up to the end. Writing on his fifty- 
first birth-day, he says: ‘‘It seems very strange that I 
am so old, five-sevenths of the ‘three-score and ten’ 
and one year more! |Only nineteen years more to 
carry me to seventy! Well, let the years fly; eternity 
will never run out, and the same Goodness that has 
blessed fifty-one years can bless an endless succession 
of years. When the little that remains of life is over, 
may Heaven be our portion.” 

At the time the new home was being prepared in 
West Hartford, some one remarked that now the min- 
ister was getting pretty near the time to die, he was 
building him a new house, which, according to all 
probabilities, he would not have long to enjoy. “Tell 
him, said Mr. Morris, “that I hope to have a better 
one.” For ten years of the autumn of his life, for he 
did not come into its winter, he enjoyed, and that very 
much, the comforts of the earthly home to which he 


54 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


had long looked forward, and for which he had laid up 
store through many years. He gave himself more to 
the enjoyment of the blessings God had given him, 
still setting himself to.tasks precluding idleness. His 
children now were four, like land-marks of the way, 
having been born respectively in Andover, Colchester, _ 
North Stonington, and West Hartford. He saw his 
tribe increase until at the Thanksgiving of 1884 he 
beheld, with son-in-law and daughter-in-law, sixteen of 
his own around the family table. He was quite feeble 
then, and necessarily sedate, but we all enjoyed the 
day, though fearing, secretly, it might be the last. 

In January, 1885, he wrote the following letter to 
one of his sons: 


“We were glad—as we always are—to receive your letter. 
We thought of you on your birthday, and it recalled vividly to 
my mind the scenes of thirty-eight years ago. These thirty- 
eight years bring you to middle life, or a little beyond, provided — 
you fill out the full term, and I remember how little chance there 
seemed to be to bring you even to the close of the first year, 
when your mother was so sick, and you had to be weaned before 
the time, and you took it so hard, and we alternated between hav- 
ing you down at Susan Wattles’ and at home, where I rolled you 
about in the baby wagon in the garret so that your screams need 
not disturb your mother. But God has been very kind, and we 
are still spared after so long atime. This same time brings me 
so far beyond middle life, —almost to its close in this world. I 
do not regret it. Thankful for the past, I would not, on the 
whole, go back... ‘It is better farther on.’ But I am feeling 
more and more that the great good in life is to recognize Him 


who gave Himself that we might live, and to occupy faithfully the _ 


position He assigns us, making day by day a record that shall be 








TRAITS: OF THE MAN. 55 


acceptable to Him, and.of course one that ought to be satisfactory 
to ourselves. I incline to think it would be well to make more of 
“an observance of birthdays than we have been accustomed to do, 
especially in a family of children. The effect on them, and on 
all, may be very happy.” 


The course was nearly run. Mr. Morris was feeble 
through the spring. With warmer weather came 
increasing strength, and he attended, as was his cus- 
tom, the meeting of the Corporation at Yale College, 
and the Commencement exercises. One Sunday, the 
anniversary of his first preaching as pastor in West 
Hartford, he failed again, and on the following Thurs- 
day, in unconsciousness, passed into rest. 

On that July Sunday, in 1852, this was his text— 
and were not the words fulfilled ? 

“For I determined not to know anything among 
you, save Jesus Christ and him crucified.” 

“T think,” said one of his old parishioners, “his 
death occurred near the time he used to preach his 
anniversary sermon, and often took his vacation. 
And now, while other ministers are taking rest, and 
gathering interesting truth for their flocks, he is rest- 
ing, but will not return to tell of the wonderful things 
which he has seen and heard. But he is with a great 
company of his church, who have gone, one by one, 
before him.” 


FUNERAL ADDRESS 


BY 


NATHANIEL J. BURTON, D.D, 


When I was called to speak here to-day I could not 
refuse to come. My conscience compelled me, and my 
tenderness of heart towards our brother whom we have 
lost, compelled me almost more than my conscience. 
Either one was sufficient to bring me, and I am here. 
I have had no time to collect facts with any fullness. 
I can make only a meager statement to-day, but I so 
much admired and loved Mr. Morris, that, in what I do 
say, I may at least voice the general feeling of this 
occasion. He was a man of whom we need not be 
ashamed, and in whose behalf we have no occasion to 
restrain ourselves, and explain, and apologize, and omit, 
as we proceed to speak of him. 

When we have portrayed a man, and have alse given 
an account of his works, we have covered the whole 
case; except that in the ight of Holy Writ, we may, if 
we like, follow him into the Paradise where he has land- 
ed, and expatiate on the particular sort of Paradise that 
exactly such an one as he, is likely to have. There is 
much honest satisfaction often in ranging among those 
bright probabilities, as well as among the solid certain- 
ties of that estate. However, Morris there, is but 








a“ 


FUNERAL ADDRESS. 57 


Morris here, carried on into his normal expansion. 
But let me take him up now under that double view, 
the man and his works. 

Ist. The man. That first for all reasons. In the 
order of time the man comes first, and, besides that, 
the entire flow of his works is colored and made to be 
what it is, through and through, by what he himself 
was. And in speaking of the man it would be inter- 
esting to draw a line of distinction and speak of 
him under two aspects: the man natural, and the man 
supernatural; the man as he was born, andthe man as 
he was reborn and sanctified through the Holy Ghost. 
To track a man back to his natural qualities, is as 
relishable as to track a word in our language back to 
its root, and taste its primal flavor. I should suppose 
that even God himself would have his own special sat- 
-isfaction in reaching to the natural traits of a man, 
and tasting their quality; their strong, wild quality, if 
you please; as he applies to them the forces of regen-_ 
eration. One thing is certain, that, although God regen- 
erates men, and makes that change to be an immense 
one, nevertheless he never obliterates the primal man, 
but sacredly preserves him, and to all eternity, through 
whatever perfection the man comes to, you can see his 
stock attributes, his congenital idiosyncrasies, even as 
in a perfected painting, the color first laid on distributes 
its tone through all that you see. Therefore, there is no 
monotony in the kingdom of God, but each saint is 
an original, a person deserving of a separate name 


because the exact like of him is not to be found among 
8 : 


58 | FUNERAL ADDRESS. 


all the millions of God. In the case of quiet, and very 
harmoniously organized, men, like Mr. Morris, this 
inborn originality of which I speak is not so percepti- 
ble as in demonstrative and eccentric men, and at first. 
you might suppose that hundreds of persons are suffi- 
ciently like them to be called they ; but that is the fault 
of your observation. Their intimates, and lovers, 
know that their individuality is eminently distin- 
guishable and enjoyable; never was there a case of 
coinage more absolute. And I think it is one of the 
very touching things in the ways of God, that he so — 
lavishes his creative originality on quiet and unstriking 
persons and things. The shyest and most unnoticeable 
of flowers is formed as characteristically and wonder- 
fully as those more sensational ; and silent, modest men, 
hidden away in almost undiscoverable retreats, are 
masterpieces of God as truly as archangels are. This 
makes the pathos of humble life. This is why great- 
hearted, and perceiving men, are so interested in human 
nature at its lowliest, and at its worst. 
Speaking of Mr. Morris, and of the man natural in 
him, I cannot speak as realistically as.I should like, 
because I do not know his early history with any full- 
ness. I only know that he was born in New England, 
of New England stock, and that he had a New Eng- 
land nurture. On a farm he was reared, I have heard, 
and in farmers’ ways, with plenty of hard work. I 
was born in New England myself, but I did not know — 
for a long time what a Godsend it is to be born there. 
Perhaps some prefer to have been born outside, and 





FUNERAL ADDRESS. 59 


prefer the kind of training men get outside, but it is a 
_never-failing zest to me to have had my start in this 
hilly, rock-bound, region, with its God-fearing drill, its 

simple life, its touch of austerity, its granite men and 

straight-forward women, its hard work, its sacred 
homes, its churches and schools, and its consecrated 
acres where the grave forefathers lie with their fami- 
lies about them, waiting the great day of the resurrec- 
tion. And I like it that Mr. Morris had the same 
origin. JI am glad that his birth and breeding were 
what they were, and glad that he took to his training 
so kindly, and made the most of it. The result was 
that we had a man made up as follows: He had a good 
intellect, a sizable one, a sane one, a firm-set intellect 
and capable of a genial obstinacy, especially where it 
re-enforced itself by conscience; a truth-loving intel- 
lect; an intellect practical rather than speculative, 
analytical, minute, or philosophical; a good working 
organ it was in this workday, needy world; an exact 
and methodical intellect he had, too; if he gave youa 
date you did not need to verify it, and if he reported 
something that he had heard or seen, that report of his 
was.solid history, and not history so pervaded by Mr. 
Morris as to be neither this nor that (read his printed 
historical discourses, and see for yourself); it was an 
industrious intellect, and he kept it going with a good 
drive till the years of honorable release had come, and 
even then he did not loll and decline; it was an intel- 
lect that ran largely to common-sense, whatever that 
may be; many minds are bright, vigorous, and even 





60 FUNERAL ADDRESS. 


amazing, but they do not have sense, what they say is 
not necessarily so, what they dictate to be done does 
not always suit the particular emergency, they do not 
veraciously sense the situation; and a curious thing 
it is that men should have such rich endowments of 
useless ability; whose fault it is 1 do not know, but 
Mr. Morris’ mind was not’so; it was an every-day, ser- 
viceable instrument, even an admirable ‘instrument ; 
men went to it for advice; it was never rash; it was 
always prudent; if it erred ever it was in the direction 
of over-prudence ; and_this intellect that I am describ- 
ing was not a debative, belligerent, mischief-making 
thing so that other thinkers could not live with it; in 
theology it had its views, but it always had clemency 
for other people’s views; it was not an ambitious and 
conceited intellect, it was humble, more humble than 
it ought to be —and several more things I might say 
about it, but even now, as you may have noticed, I — 
have passed over into the moral and affectional de- 
partment of the man in some of my specifications ; 
for, in analyzing a person, it is not easy to makea 
study of his attributes as objects of study separate 
from the general man, because all the special organs 
and sections of his nature are bound up together in 
the unity of a common life, and when a man thinks, 
there is feeling in his thinking, and when he feels, 
there is thinking in his feeling, and in any single 
external act that he performs, there is a taste of his 
entire self, his very plural and composite self, moral, 
affectional, and intellectual. 








FUNERAL ADDRESS. 61 


But let us now pass over avowedly, formally, and 
hot incidentally, merely, to the affectional and the 
moral qualities of our brother. 

I have already said that he was low in his self-esti- 
mates, but this peculiarity in him was so strong that it 
_ deserves to be mentioned more than once. Mr. Mor- 
ris was an abler man than he thought, and a weightier 
man (for it takes something more than ability to make 
weight), and a man more looked up to and loved. 
Some four years ago, when he had reached his seven- 
tieth birthday, the people here, under the lead of their 
pastor, Mr. Hatch, secretly organized a celebration for 
that day, and they rallied to the occasion hundreds 
strong, and there was talking, and glorification, and 
reading of letters from people of other communities ; 
a truly exuberant time I should judge; and I have 
often amused my own mind, thinking of that modest, 
surprised, amazed man in the midst of that overflow- 
ing testimony (exaggerated testimony, as he would 
say); but possibly on that birthday it did begin to 
come over him just a little that he was somebody on 
the face of the earth. His ordinary view of himself, 
however, was moderate, so that he was likely to decline 
openings for activity and influence which he might as 
well have entered ; and perhaps on occasions of espe- 
cial responsibility, he could not always put his entire 
force into the field, he was so self-depreciating. And 
yet his modesty never undermined his vigor and his 
perseverance where great principles were involved, 
and his conscience had taken her stand. 


62 FUNERAL ADDRESS. 


The next trait I would mention was his amiability. 
His face was kindly, the tones of his voice were kindly 
always, his attitude and his gestures as he addressed 
you in private intercourse were kindly, what he said 
was kindly, he had the good heart and conciliatory 
manners of a gentleman, he never hated anybody, or — 
begrudged anybody his good fortune, or plotted against 
anybody; or treated the young with austerity, albeit 
-he was not a demonstrative and profuse person, and 
could not be. And he was not pushing and unpleas- 
ant where he had ends to carry; in fact, among all 
men that I have:known, I do not recollect a more 
thorough-going kind man, year in and year out. If 
only the rest of us were all like him! We should not 
know the world we live in, nor ever want to leave it. 
Heaven, on its social, and brotherly, side, is simply an 
indefinite multiplication of gracious spirits rather like 
him. 

Again, he was pure. He cultivated clean thoughts, 
and his visible life was stainless. 

And he was conscientious, resolute, and faithful, in- 
all appointed tasks. He walked the rounds of his ~ 
vocation in a manner to. be respected by all men. His 
gift and tact for one function or service may have been 
less than his gift for some other, but he did not on that 
account relax that function. What he could do, he did. 

Moreover, he was a progressive man. He was hos- 
pitable to the numerous brand-new notions of his 
brethren. He looked them over’slowly, silently, chris- 
tianly, and listened to the overflowing talk about 








FUNERAL ADDRESS. 63 


them, and you might think he was going to adopt 
_ them, but he didn’t. Not generally. But he suffered 
himself to be tempted by them, so to say, and mel- 
lowed by them, and moderated, and so on. I have 
seen the lowly animal creatures when their young 
ones were creeping and swarming all over them, molest- 
ing their repose, and making free with their majesty. 
It was beautiful to notice how little resistance they 
made. And yet it was easy to see that, back of all, 
was the unchanged parent, with her. bulk, and her 
settled ways, and her old-fashioned solidity. So, 
among Christian ministers, you can see established, 
good-sized, amiable elderly men, over whom the younger 
ones, and the more venturesome and exploring think- 
ers, swarm, and display their inventions, and enjoy 
themselves. They like it, and the old ones like it, 
and let them do it. You might think they were con- 
feriecesleesay, but they are not.. They are just 
where they were for substance,— immovable theologi- 
ans, but moderate and genial. Moderate and genial! I 
read an argument written and printed by Brother Mor- 
ris, that was designed to show why it is better that old 
men should die and depart, and leave the world open 
and cleared for the operations of young ones. They 
tend to be obstructive of progress if they stay too 
long, he said. Well, he was not obstructive of any 
real progress. He was not nimble to take a new gait, 
—and he never was, and he did not want to be,—but 
he was willing to hear, and gradually to conform him- 
self to all sensible suggestions. He was, to the last. 


64 | FUNERAL ADDRESS. 


He never stiffened, in either his intellect or his affec- 
tions. Hewas fresh, sensitive, and limber, in spite of 
fast-multiplying years. Progress is sufficiently assured 
so long as such men fill our ranks; and at the same 
time rashness is sure to be checked. 

Shall I put it down among Brother Morris’ moral 
traits that he knew humor when he saw it? I am 
minded to. Certainly I may name it as one of the 
symptoms of his affectionateness. It would not be at 
all a fair showing of the man to say that he was an 
humorist, and I should bea shade off, I fear, if I called 
him humorous. His image does not rise before me in 
that way exactly, but I do remember his much amused 
face, and his mellow response ad zmo pectore, when 
some good point was genially made at the expense of 
our poor human nature, or some particular person was 
held up, —not to ridicule, he did not like that—but to - 
merry observation ; or when some grotesque arrange- 
ment of events was mentioned, some incident of parish 
life where the serious and the not-serious unwittingly 
got mingled in a manner that they did not expect ; 
some tragic circumstance that suddenly faded out into 
common-place; some phase of this deep life of ours 
on which an ever-kindly and man-loving man could 
play his heart in mingled laughter and tears. I do not 
know whether it would have been possible, by a little © 
change.in our dear brother, to have had him too statu- 
esque, and unbending, and even austere, or not, per- 
haps not, but one thing is certain, that so long as he 
retained his quiet sense of humor, it was impossible 








FUNERAL ADDRESS. | 65 


that he should not escape stiffness, and an over-impres- 
sive dignity. There is no lubricating oil like the merry- | 
making of the loving heart; there is no mellowness 
more mellow, or more consistent with every robustness 
of character, and even with every saintliness, than 
that specificmellowness known as humor. Thisthought 
was the more likely to occur to me this day, because it 
was only two weeks ago that IJ was with this man for 
several days, looking him over, remarking upon him 
in my own mind, and making a point of this very 
thing. A great character is possible without smiles, 
but not the greatest and most effective, and I do not 
deem it wrong to say so on this most serious and ten- 
der occasion. 7 , 

I hope that the image of Myron N. Morris is now 
substantially before you—his tall form, his benignant 
face, his well-intentioned, and sufficiently suave, man- 
ners, his engaging voice, engaging because so kindly, 
his goodly interior man, his sensible, symmetrical, indus- 
trious, serviceable, mind; his equally symmetrical 
moral character, his love of religion, his even fidelity 
in every direction, his brotherliness in all relations, 
clerical and lay, as you his townsmen, parishioners, and 
friends, and we, his neighbors, can testify; his rever- 
ence for the old times, and his hopefulness for the 
new, his absolute personal identification with the king- 
dom of God, his sweet rest in God as regards the mys- 
teries of lifeand the great mysteries of the future, a// 
the mysteries in fact incident to a fallen world, and a 
universe with numerous unquestionable hells in it (I 
a 


66 FUNERAL ADDRESS. 


could tell you about how he looked at that, if I thought 
best), his domesticity (witness ye children all, and his 
true wife), his parish tact that never failed him, his 
ability to use so much of faculty as God had happened 
to give him, in away to make it tell, not brilliantly, but 
steadily and with accumulating momentum as the years 
went on; or, shall I sum a whole score of things in 
one, and speak of his weight, his personal weight, his 
uncommon weight, for a man whose separate faculties 
were not ponderous; weight! that mysterious sum-total, 
which in his case was more than the sum of all his 
parts, by as much as ten thousand men when uniformed, 
drilled, organized, and moulded into a corporate unit, 
care more on the field of war, by far, than the entire ten ~ 
thousand moving individually; personal weight! that su- 
preme force in a community which often is net noticed 
any more than the superincumbent great weight of the 
atmosphere, pressing us all, is noticed, but which, in 
-critical hours, when men’s judgments are confused and 
their hearts are failing them, declares itself, and, when - 
-at last it is withdrawn, creates a universal sense of loss, 
-even as the quite unnoticed atmosphere would be most 
terribly missed if God should suddenly take it away. 
I hope, I say, that the mass, fashion, and substance, of 
this man has gradually emerged before you, as I have 
gone on with my observations, and that you are pre- 
pared now to spend a moment with me, while I speak, 

Secondly, Of his works. It will not take long. 
The life of a minister in a New England village, if he 
.takes good care of his parish, is not likely to be full © 








FUNERAL ADDRESS. 67 


of such details as are sought for by those who write 
history. My impression is that if his labors and 
experiences were diligently worked up, not imagina- 
tively at all, but in the most literal literality ; worked 
up in all their bearings, worked up about as they 
stand on God's book, they would make wonderful read- 
ing, and would even crowd out whole tons of reading, 
historic and journalistic, that tell about wars, and sen- 
sational incidents, and the copious trivialities of daily 
life. 

Mr. Morris, after he had completed his education, 
spent a few years teaching in Bacon Academy, Col- 
chester, Conn., a service which he loved, and con- 
tinued to have an interest in, so long as he lived. 
But in 1846 he began to be a Christian minister, and 
a Congregational pastor, in North Stonington, Conn. 
There he remained till 1852, when he came to the 
pastorate of this church. And here for twenty-three 
years he served you in the gospel; baptizing your 
children ; marrying your lovers; burying your dead ; 
preaching to you and exhorting, and living what he 
preached ; administering the ordinances of your sanc- 
tuary; going in and out at your homes in all the weal 
and woe of your life; visiting your schools; shedding 
himself abroad through all your interests; making 
this Congregational church in West Hartford to be 
respected through our entire Congregational com- . 
munion, his good name being continually imputed to 
you; and then in 1875, ten years ago, with no jar, 
and for no reason dishonorable to either you or him, 


68 FUNERAL ADDRESS. 


he laid down his work, he being then sixty-four years 
of age, and was followed here by a young man, F. S. 
Hatch, whom he could love and respect, and did cor- 
dially ; a young man who surprised the dear old gen- 
tleman’s eyes, by leading off in the building of such a 
church edifice here as he never expected to see built 
in his lifetime and paid for, an edifice by the way to 
which Brother Morris was one of the most generous 
contributors (for he was always a generous man 
though a frugal one)—and thus, in great restful- 
ness and quiet enjoyment, his years of retirement 
flowed on till there were ten of them, ten still years, 
in which he neither droned nor over-exerted himself, 
but had his home, garden, and family, including his 
blessed wife, of whom I will say in passing, that from — 
the first she has been his staff and his joy, and a real 
helpmate for him in this parish —ten still years — 
years of unfailing faculties and unabated public respect 
—until the other day, he fell sick, and, after not long, 
lapsed into unconsciousness, and died, all too soon but 
not untimely, and certainly not unripe; in uncon- 
sciousness he went, God in tenderness taking just 
that way to relieve him of that which he had always 
dreaded; he might have taken him wide-awake, and 
abundantly calmed His servant’s natural timidity by 
his all-powerful Spirit (how often we see that done!), 
but God preferred to quietly hide him in the deep 
shadow of unconsciousness, and take him unto Him- 
self asleep. | | 

In 1867 Mr. Morris was chosen a member of the 








FUNERAL ADDRESS. 69 


corporation of Yale College, of which college he was 
a graduate, a position very congenial to his taste, and 
suited to his abilities ; and he was still in that service 
when he died. It will seem lonesome to some of us 
in the future meetings of that body. 

I mention, too, as one of the minor particulars of 
his large and manifold service to this town, that he 
represented it several times in the legislature. | 

And, as one of his services to the kingdom of God 
at large, that he was one of the most forward and 
laborious of the working committee of the old Mis- 
sionary Society of Connecticut for a long series of 
years. I cannot chronicle his’ works there in the 
least according to their magnitude, but they are on 
record where they will not be lost; even on His 
memory, to whom the fidelity of his servants is pre-— 
cious ; and in due time they shall be revealed. 

The published writings of Mr. Morris were not 
many, but they were all good, and like him— plain, 
orderly, exact, sensible, instructive, unambitious, and, : 
when they took the form of historical discourse, 
particularly excellent and valuable. | 

I said to you at the outset that when we have por- 
trayed a man, and given an account of his works, we 
have covered the whole case. It may be said that the 
only way we know a man is by his works, but I think 
that often the man and his works are incommensurate, 
the works being less than the man, or the works 
seeming more than the man. A resounding flow of 
deeds, when traced to their author, are sometimes found 


poe FUNERAL ADDRESS. 


. to be inexplicable by anything discoverable in him; 
and still more frequently a line of modest and sparse 
works are found to have a man of unusual dimensions 
back of them; the thing that strikes us most is his 
“reserved power,” as we say, his power never yet put 
forth and made visible in anything he has done. It is 
a matter for sharp inquiry, how this reserved power is 
discovered, if none of his works tell it; but it is dis- 
covered, perhaps, quite as impressively sometimes as 
though the works did tell it. 

As regards Mr. Morris, I should say that he and his 
works were substantially commensurate. It was in 
keeping with his notable balance and symmetry of 
faculties, and his notable balance of character, that he 
and his works should also balance. And when I say 
that they balanced, I do not understand myself to be 
depreciating him, as though his works, being neither 
numerous nor celebrated, he himself must have been 
correspondingly quite measurable, not to say small; 
for in my view his works were sufficiently large by 
count, and very large indeed by the measure of quality 
and of final influence. It may be the prejudice of a 
Christian minister, but I submit to you that our func- 
tion among men as ministers is by no means one of 
the lesser functions of the world. There is less 
material show in it than in some, but when it comes 
to be all spread out in the eternal, and men see it 
with spiritual vision, it will take its place in the fore- 
front of all works and services. 

My brethren in the ministry, we have lost a rare and 








FUNERAL ADDRESS. 71 


sweet soul from our ranks; a man whom we loved and 
who loved us. He was a friend to us all, and we were 
all his friends. We make a good many arguments 
before the public in behalf of Jesus Christ and his 
religion, but when we can point to such as Morris, we 
have hurled at gainsayers our chiefest argument. 
There is no use in debating so long as Christianity can 
keep on turning out such characters as that. Dear 
man! we shall miss him. He had retired from his old- 
time activity, and did not appear in our clerical and 
other assemblies so often as before, but we knew all 
the time that he was out here on the hill, and now and 
then we saw him. We shall see him no more. He 
has gone to Bacon, Bushnell, Hawes, Spring, Eldridge, 
Arms —I cannot recite the whole list of them — but 
he has gone to those men whom I remember as stand- 
ing in the leadership of our Israel when I came to 
Hartford, twenty-eight years ago, and found him here 
in this village. I am full of fond rememberings as I 
turn back to those true men, and I do not know but I 
envy our brother that he is privileged now to join their 
good company. 


Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom was no guile. 

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. 
Enoch walked with God, and was not, for God took him. 
Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints. 


They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more, neither 
shall the sun light on them, nor any heat, for the Lamb which is 
in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them 


72 FUNERAL ADDRESS. 


unto living fountains of waters, and God shall wipe away all tears 
from their eyes. Their sun shall no more go down, neither shall 
their moon withdraw itself, for the Lord shall be their everlasting 
light, and the days of their mourning shall be ended. 


Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be | 
like his. 


Men and brethren, to the music of these, and like 
comfortable scriptures, we bear this man to his burial 
‘this day. In the midst of these pastoral scenes where 
his life was spent, in the solemn enclosure which he 
has so often entered accompanying the dead and com- 
forting the living, alongside of that considerable assem- — 
bly of parishioners and friends whom he has laid to 
rest, we shall tenderly lay him down. In the opulent 
beauty of this midsummer month, with all the voices 
of Nature on the side of hope, with bird, bloom, and 
soft wind, testifying of the love of God, we shall lay 
down, and bid farewell to, this truly beloved man, 
looking forward to the day when the perishable shall 
merge in the imperishable, when these vanishing 
scenes wherein we run our little round shall give place 
to new heavens and a new earth, and the ultimate 
form and stage of the Kingdom of God shall have 
come. Amen: 








MR. MORRIS AS A STUDENT AND 
FELLOW OF YALE COLLEGE. 


BY 


PRESIDENT NOAH PORTER, D.D., LL.D. 


My acquaintance with the late Rev. Myron N. 
Morris began in the year 1833, when I was a tutor of 
the Freshman class, of which he was a member. The 
class was large, one of/ the largest which at that time 
had ever entered.the institution, consisting, as it did, 
of 126 members; the class which followed having 
numbered sixty-nine only. It was so large as to 
warrant, if it did not require, three divisions, and I 
was made the disciplinary officer of one of these 
divisions—the south, the one to which Mr. Morris 
was assigned as a member—being, at the same time, 
the tutor in Greek for the entire class. This year 

was memorable in the history of instruction in Greek, 
by the abandonment of the old Graca Majora, and 
the introduction as text-books for the Freshman and 
Sophomore years, of Xenophon’s Anabasis and the 
Iliad of Homer. The south division was generally 
reputed to be the most mercurial, and possibly the 
most promising, as its members were generally more 


10 


74 MR. MORRIS AN A STUDENT : 


youthful. Among them were William T. Bacon, Aaron 
L. Chapin, Thomas Mills Day, William Maxwell Evarts, 
Benjamin N. Martin, and Andrew L. Stone. Their 
tutor was young, slight in size, and shy and timid in 
his ways, and perhaps not altogether fitted to cope 
successfully with the untamed spirit of these fiery 
youths. Among these boys in age, and boys in feel- 
ing, Morris was conspicuous for his commanding 
presence and his modest ways; probably the oldest, 
and certainly the tallest, of all, having then attained 
full height, and being always distinguished by his 
dignified manner, and his sweet and gentle influence. 
In this he was strikingly contrasted with those usually 
styled old fellows, or fathers of their classes, of whom 
every class had one or more. He seemed to me the 
same in appearance, in manners, and in character when 
I saw him for the first time in his place in the division- 
room, as a Freshman in college, as when I saw him for 
the last time in his place, as a member of the Corpora- 
tion, only a few weeks before his death. He was 
singularly erect, broad-shouldered, large-framed, show- 
ing that he had been accustomed to the out-of-door © 
life and the breezy winters of the hill-tops of Litch- 
field county; while there was an almost feminine 
delicacy and self-distrustfulness which he never alto- 
gether overcame, and which lent a singular charm to 
his character and manners, in the judgment of all 
who knew him well. This almost unreasonable shy- 
ness cleaved to him to the end. It was in part a 
product of nature, and in part the result of circum- 








AND FELLOW OF YALE COLLEGE. 75 


stances—being, in a measure, owing to the late 
_ beginning of his studious life and the disadvantage in 
which he at first found himself in comparison with 
those younger than himself by very many years. For 
example, his seat-mate was the acute, and agile, and 
accomplished Prof. B. N. Martin, apparently as much 
a product of art and social refinement as Mr. Morris 
was the simple and modest child of nature. In almost 
every particular they were in striking contrast, even to 
their bodily frames; in temperament, manners, and 
mental habits. And so they remained to the end, 
inasmuch as the native modesty of Mr. Morris never 
allowed him to assert the force and fire which were in 
him, while Mr. Martin unconsciously expressed force, 
and fire, and grace, in every movement of his natural 
self-assertion. Alas! that either should have died 
sO soon. 

In his intercourse with his classmates he was gen- 
tleness itself, and hence he reigned over them with a 
patriarchal sweetness and dignity. It was of infinite 
advantage to the division to which he belonged that he 
was a member of it. The presence of one full-grown 
man—so strong, and yet so gentle; so commanding 
in his height and mien, and yet so modest; so good a 
scholar, and yet so distrustful; so thorough, and yet 
so teachable —was a constant lesson and model to all. 
Mr. Evarts would be the readiest to say, and to feel, 
that to this day he owes not a little to Mr. Morris’s 
quiet inspiration and gentle restraint, who sat over 
against him in the division-room; and what Mr. Evarts 


76 MR. MORRIS AS A STUDENT. 


would say, all felt to be true. In times of college or 
class excitement, when the boyish spirit was awakened 
to an idle frolic or a serious antagonism to academic 
authority — Mr. Morris’s gentle and sympathetic wis- 
dom fell upon the excited spirits of his classmates like — 
the noiseless snowflakes to which Homer compared the 
words of Nestor. In seasons of religious movement, 
his solid piety and loving’ prayers were arguments that 
could not easily-be resisted, and needed no extraneous 
enforcement. What Mr. Morris became as a clergy- 
man, his brethren can testify from their personal 
knowledge. I can .testify that he retained the spirit 
and accuracy of a scholar till his death; that he nei- 
ther forgot nor neglected his Greek, but retained his 
classical knowledge and his scholarly feelings till the 
end. As a member of the Corporation of Yale Col- 
lege, he was thoroughly competent, clear-headed, and 
positive in his opinions. Although his blushing mod- 
esty often repressed his assertive force, it never biased 
or weakened his solid judgment. He lived a most 
blameless, and happy, and useful life. He was to the 
writer a pupil who never could be forgotten; a friend 
affectionate and true; and to all who knew him, a clear- 
headed, devout, and humble-minded Christian teacher, 
around whose hallowed memory all the benedictions 
spoken by his divine Master gather and rest. 








LETTER FROM GEORGE W. COOKE. 


WATERBURY, Conn., Dec. 25, 1885. 

Mr. Morris: 

Dear Sir,—I am afraid I shall not be able to con- 
tribute much that will be available for your purpose. 
It is true, your father and myself were room-mates, 
but nearly or quite a half century has passed since 
that time. Of course, it is difficult to recall many of 
the ordinary every-day incidents of that period. 

I well recollect that your father attracted the notice 
of the class generally immediately on assembling at 
the commencement of our freshman year. He had 
then attained his full stature, physically, being tall and 
broad — about the same as you have always known him. 
His peculiar style of dress at that time also served to 
attract notice, and he was soon known by the sobriquet 
of class ‘ Patriarch.” But outward appearances went 
for nothing as the character of the man and his pur- 
poses began to unfold. He had entered college with 
an object in view—an object which, he knew, could 
only be attained by persistent hard work. His recita- 
tions at once gave evidence of systematic and unwearied 
effort. Rarely, if ever, was “not prepared” heard 
from his lips. His standing in his studies was con- 


78 LETTER FROM 


sequently among the best in his class. The same 
manly bearing and unswerving purpose carried him 
bravely and honorably through to the end of his 
course. 

I became personally acquainted with him during 
freshman year, and on entering our sophomore year 
we concluded to “chum” together. We selected a 
room in the fourth story of the “Old South Middle,’ 
and moved our very plain and economical furniture 
into it. During that year, and while occupying this 
room, your father was taken sick with typhoid fever. 
At his request I called in the elder Dr. Ives, an emi- 
nent New Haven physician of that period. The doc- 
tor prescribed for him and left him in my care till 
further development of the disease. After two or 
three days it was evident he must have a course of 
fever. A room at a private house near by was at once 
secured, and he was carried down the three flights of 
stairs on a cot-bed to his new quarters. His sickness 
was very severe and continued for many weeks. The 
crisis past, he recovered slowly, and again resumed his 
studies with the class. Just how he was able to do 
this I do not remember; but suppose he put in some 
extra labor to close up the Azatws and regain the lost 
ground. ‘That he was able to do this, showed the in- 
domitable spirit of the man. 

Your father, as I knew him, was not much of a 
talker, but a good thinker and close student. He had 
a vein of humor in him which would occasionally 
manifest itself, but his talk was not of the frivolous — 





.GEORGE W. COOKE. 79 


sort. His principles were firm for what he believed to 


_ be right, and he maintained them whether popular or 





not. In aword, Myron N. Morris was always highly 
esteemed by his classmates for his manly character, 
his strict integrity, his good scholarship, and firm 
Christian principle. 

Various organizations of which you speak I did not 
belong to, so I can say nothing of him as regards 
these. His monitorship in the College Chapel was 
conscientiously performed. As he had a good eye and 
good altitude, delinquents could not easily escape the 
record of that unerring pencil. 

Our number is surely diminishing year by year, and 
ere long every name will have its star. Happy for 
those who, like your) honored father, have filled the 
measure of their days with good to their race! 


Yours truly, 
GEORGE - W COOKE. 


REMINISCENCES 


BY 


REV. JOSEPH W. BACKUS.. 


Whenever I think of my early beginnings in study, 
Mr. Morris is the all-commanding figure in the retro- 
spect. At my first attendance at morning prayers, in 
the lower hall of Bacon Academy,—the teachers sit- 
ting in arow on the platform — the next boy whispered 
in my ear, “ That’s the principal; that’s Mr. Morris 
sitting in the middle!” I did not turn my eyes from 
him till he rose to conduct the devotions, and then 
my admiration rose with him. He was tall, erect, 
broad-shouldered, high-browed; he had a speaking 
face ; he read with moderation, bordering on solemnity, 
in a pleasant tone of voice, that seemed to me to make 
friends with the juvenile audience. I soon found all ° 
the school loved him and believed in him, and then, fur- 
ther, that’ the community was not much behind the 
school in their appreciation of him. 

I was just beginning to read the fables in Greek. We 
were a week on AAQUHZ KAI BOTPYEZ; two days on 
the first word; two days catching the fox, as the boys 
said. The accents, breathings, names of things, word 








REMINISCENCES BY REV. JOSEPH W. BACKUS, 8I 


constructions, a world of minute mysteries, all brought 
_ to view in this one word, kept us turning over the leaves 
of the grammar, for rules and principles, and then back 
for review, till we felt pretty sure of the game, and 
then, as in every such chase, we felt well paid and 
ready for the next hunt. 

He was, in short, a thorough teacher, and so taught 
as to promote self-reliance in the pupil. He conducted 
the pupil to such a mastery of the subject as made 
him eager for the next adventure. He awakened 
enthusiasm in the scholar, by conducting him to the 
knowledge of his own powers, while he himself seemed 
the very model of unconcern. 

He had a way of giving short lectures, at the close 
of the morning devotions, on topics of practical import- 
ance, suggested, often, by events of the school life. 
Some of these talks related to personal habits, man- 
ners, modes of study, books for reading, and methods 
of reading, and its real uses. Many difficulties were 
demolished for the pupil, and many inspirations 
imparted, before he began his day’s work, by the calm 
lay-out of things in these easy talks. After sketching 
‘a programme of work one day, to his own classes, in his 
own room, he spoke substantially as follows: | 

“You see here is a great deal to do; but you see, 
also, that you do not have it all to do at once. Do 
not try to do it all at once. Do not be anxious about 
it as a whole. Be anxious only about the lesson in 
hand. Sixty minutes makes an hour. Get through 


with one minute before taking the next. Festina 
II 


82 REMINISCENCES BY 


lente. We are crushed by the amount of our work, 
and get to hurrying, only when we neglect to do to- 
day’s duty to-day. Carpe diem. Scme of this work is 
difficult. If it were not it would do you no good. It 
will all be done on time, without hurry or confusion, — 
if the present is taken care of.” | 

If ever such kind assurances were construed as 
meaning an easy habit toward derelictions in duty, or 
an indulgence to a conceited precociousness, it was a 
mistake. 

On one occasion a pupil was reading to him for (pos- 
sible) correction, his essay for the annual exhibition. 
He heard it and remarked: 

“You remind me of one who should make an arrow 
to shoot. It 1s to be no ordinary, dull, stone-pointed ~ 
arrow, but rather one pointed with the finest steel, 
ground and polished to the sharpest possible point ; 
but just before shooting it, he winds it all around with 
ribbons of all gayest colors, layer after layer, ends left 
loose as streamers, being especially careful to com- 
pletely cover and protect that sharp point, so that 
when it hits the mark (if it ever should) it would hit . 
with a thud, fall to the ground, and leave no trace. 
Now take those rags off, and you will find a very good 
thought there, and other folks will find it too.” 

That pupil is now living, and he says, to this day, 
he never sits down to write without feeling that that 
‘criticism, like the sword of Damocles, hangs over his 
head. Mr. Morris was an excellent pruner of young 
men’s literary fancies. 








REV. JOSEPH W. BACKUS. 83 


He had great severity, when the occasion demanded 
-it. He abhorred a sneaky, artful, deceitful character, 
and could not show it much mercy. A lazy, shitless 
fellow one day handed him his composition, with his 
name subscribed. Next morning, after prayers, the 
school was detained, all the half dozen departments. 
The principal rose in his stateliest fashion, remarking 
upon the composition exercise in general; in particu- 
lar, upon the last installment he had just examined, 
and more particularly still, upon one of very marked 
excellence, which deserved to be read to the school, 
and which he would read. After the reading, came 
the closing comment, to this effect: He could hardly 
speak in too high praise of that composition. It 
deserved to be published ; in fact, it had been; he read 
it last evening in one of his favorite volumes, and it 
ought to be known who it was that had brought the 
school to such honor. The offender's name was then 
given, and the school was bowed out of the hall. 

In his morning talks he had the faculty of inflicting 
discipline, without describing the offence, and of iden- 
tifying the offender without naming him. He did it 
by citing a method of Providence applicable to the 
case, or a principle of the divine government concerned 
in it. As, for instance, by the following well-remem- 
bered, homely illustration: “In this world a person 
walks as if between two sets of hatchel teeth, with 
but a narrow path between them. If he minds his 
business and walks straight, all will be well, but is sure 
to be caught up by a sharp retribution if he does not, 
and has nobody to blame but ‘himself. ‘The way of- 


84. REMINISCENCES. BY REV. JOSEPH W. BACKUS. 


transgressors is hard.’”” A piece of rowdyism in town, 
or street impropriety, implicating the school, was very 
likely, to be subjected to some such ordeal of fixed 
principles as awoke the conscience and led the 
wrong-doer to accuse himself. Many a boy has felt, 
in listening to him, that there was an invisible, Argus- 
eyed police, on the track of wrong doing, and received 
permanent impressions of the reality of the divine 
government. 

He had boarding scholars at his table. One day a 
thoughtless chap presented himself at the table with- 
out his coat. Next day Mr. Morris didthesame. Affect- 
ing suddenly to bethink himself, after all were seated, 
he begged Mrs. Morris to pardon the boorishness, as it 
was undoubtedly the effect of a bad example the day 
before. 

The secret of his influence over his pupils (which 
only increases with their years) does not lie in any 
gush or overflow of action (of which he was constitu- 
tionally incapable), but in the quality of manhood he 
had. It was massive and towering. It excited admi- 
ration and emulation. He commanded the situation. 
Besides, he loved young men and sympathized with 
them, and they knew it. He was once himself, “an 
unpolished gem,” as Mr. Hawley Olmstead, his own | 
early, and well beloved teacher, affectionately said 
of him. It was with him a sympathetic work, 
to bring young men to the actual possession of 
their own worth. He became an excellent minister 
and pastor. But his fame would have been greater if 
he had continued to teach. 








IMPRESSIONS 


REV. FRANKLIN S. HATCH, 


Successor in the West Hartford Pulpit. 


The last Sunday in 1875 I preached in West Hart- 
ford for the first time, At the close of that service, 
when Mr. Morris took me by the hand and uttered a 
few kindly words, our acquaintance began. That ac- 
quaintance grew into esteem, friendship, affection. 
My particular partiality for Mr. Morris finds abundant 
reason in the fact that the sweetness and the peace of 
my first pastorate are due in large measure to him. I 
shall revere him and his memory to my latest days. 
If this be considered a mental attitude unfit for a bio- 
erapher, I can only say that I would rather be a grate- 
ful friend than an ideal biographer. 

In recording some of the impressions made upon 
me, as the successor of Mr. Morris, I mention first 
the condition in which I found the people to whom he 
had ministered. When a pastor has served nearly a 
generation in a quiet community, the condition of 
affairs must in some measure illustrate his spirit and 


86 IMPRESSIONS BY 


work. The peace and harmony of the church, the 
willingness to advance, provided every movement were 
made with caution and tentatively, the tender love for 
old institutions, the careful attention to the details of 
church and parish administration, the dignified reserve 
of Christian men and women,— all these seemed to re- 
flect and repeat the character of the teacher in those 
he had taught so long. It was also easy to see that 
Mr. Morris was venerated by the entire community. 
I do not mean that every one liked him equally well or 
that he underwent in his ministry none of those pass- 
ing oppositions or differences of opinion incident to a 
long and faithful pastorate. But I do mean that after 
twenty-five years acquaintance, people hoped Mr. Mor- 
ris would live long and that he would always live in 
West Hartford. They prayed that their children 
might be as good, as pure, as noble, as he) They 
made no discount upon his character when they 
mentioned his name. I am not aware that he left an 
enemy in the entire town. And when at last he came 
in peace to the end, even those far from him in Chris- 
tian feeling were eager to acknowledge the supremacy 
of his character, to appreciate the large place he had 
filled, and to mourn and weep with all the rest of us. 
He was highly honored, but he deserved all the 
honor he received. He was a gentleman. He under- 
stood and he practiced the habits and the deportment: 
of a gentleman. His fine old-fashioned courtesy was 
all the more impressive when we remember that his 
temperament was not impulsive or emotional. His 








REV. FRANKLIN S. HATCH. 87 


manners were a part of his manhood; he did not “put 
them on,” but they belonged there and they dwelt in 
him. His politeness seemed as much a principle as 
anything else that was his own. His demeanor was 
dignified, reserved, serious; but it was kindly and 
generous. The broad, deep stream of his life flowed 
slowly, but it always sparkled in the sun. Of course, 
being a gentleman, he was always a gentleman. I 
have met him in the convocations of his brethren; I 
have seen him in social gatherings; I have carefully 
observed his daily walk among his neighbors and 
friends; but I never saw him more courtly or consid- 
erate than when in the retirement of his own home. 

I must also recognize his helpfulness as a faithful 
and competent churchman. It was easy to see there 
would be no strife between us. I knew there was no 
hazard in saying publicly to my people, “If there is 
any trouble between Mr. Morris and me it will be my 
fault.” Idid not suppose he would criticise his people 
or say uncomfortable things about them, but I did 
think he would advise me about church plans and 
work, and that sometimes he would say of the breth- 
ren, you may rely upon this man and you will find 
that one very helpful. He said nothing of the kind. 
He made no comments upon the people and offered no 
private suggestions concerning the work of the church. 
Indeed, when I sought his advice he did not give it, 
but listened patiently and replied oracularly. I was 
disappointed, but as the years went by I realized his 
consummate wisdom in this also. He was a faithful 


88 IMPRESSIONS BY 


church-member, constant at the Sunday and week-day 
services of the church ; in private conversation he was 
often a retired pastor of wide general experience; but 
he never sought the role of ex-pastor of the West 
Hartford Church or exhibited his peculiar ability to 
give counsel concerning the people he knew so well. 
He evidently believed that his successor should learn, 
as other people learn, by the blessed discipline of ex- 
perience, even though the road led through some mis- 
takes. In short, he seemed determined to be thought 
of as my parishioner and not as my predecessor. And 
what a strong, sweet parishioner he was! The grace 
of God was upon him and the spirit of Christ dwelt 
in him. His class was the largest in the Sunday- 
school, and in the church meetings his words were 
wisdom, truth, tenderness. The beautiful light of his 
life filled all the community with its radiance. Thus 
he sustained his pastor, not in perfunctory fashion, or 
with effusive utterances of approval, or by sinking his 
personality and opinions, but by sustaining every 
Christian enterprise and living the life of Christ 
among men. I well remember his reply when, with 
these things in mind, I ventured the attempt to ex- + 
press somewhat of my appreciation and gratitude: ~~ 
“Tf I have done any good here in all these years, why 
should I destroy it now?” 2 
Of course, it goes without saying, that he did not 
hold his opinions at the beck of any young man, fresh 
from a theological seminary. He was tenacious of his 
matured conclusions, and did not easily surrender them. 








REV. FRANKLIN S. HATCH. — 89 


We differed in age, experience, training, and tempera- 
ment. I must have often crossed the lines of his judg- 
ment and his feelings. All the more noble it was in 
him to give me his moral support. I think of him not 
as the echo of my own plans and ideas, but as the 
friend who overlooked my deficiencies, respected my 
intentions, and loved supremely the cause we both 
ited fo Serve. . 

I cannot write of his excellences without some 
measure of restraint. I should violate the sacred reti- 
cence of his nature did I, even now, tell all I might. 
One of the happiest ideas I ever had was to celebrate 
his seventieth birthday. The townspeople came to- 
gether by hundreds, and it was in every way a notable 
occasion, and the most delightful thing about it was 
his own gracious speech. Several letters from his 
brethren in the ministry were read. One of these 
said, in substance, as I recall it: Don’t you be re- 
strained by Mr. Morris’s modesty, but do you get out 
the whole truth about him for once. Yet who could 
even approximate the full truth in his presence, when 
the painful color hurried to his face at the least sug- 
gestion of his worth? His professional brethren esti- 
mated him far above his own valuation, and I never 
heard them mention him with other than the sincerest 
praise. hee 
It would only rehearse his familiar qualities if this 
paper attempted to fully picture the man. Who, 
knowing Mr. Morris, can ever forget his virtues and 
powers? His colossal judgment, his rare sagacity, his 


12 


go IMPRESSIONS BY REV. FRANKLIN S. HATCH. 


imperturbable resting in the conclusions at which he 
had arrived, his calmness when others were excited, 
his subtle humor, his breadth and catholicity of feel- 
ing, the integrity that forbade even self-deception, his 
growing sense of the love of God, his memorable 
utterances that come back bringing with them tones 
and attitudes, —all these things are inseparable from 
the Mr. Morris of our memory and our love. 

I regard the balance and accord of his powers as 
Mr. Morris’s greatest endowment. He was neither 
angular nor eccentric, but a symmetrical man. I have 
often thought of him in connection with a passage of 
Mr. Everett’s greatest oration: “To complain of the 
character of Washington that it is destitute of bril- 
liant qualities is to complain of a circle that it has no 
salient points and no sharp angles in its circumfer- 
ence, forgetting that it owes all its wonderful proper- 
ties to the unbroken curve of which every point i is 
equidistant from the center.” 

I do not claim that he was perfect, that he had all 
conceivable endowments, that he was always in abso- 
lute equipoise. But the character of Mr, Morris, 
beyond any man I ever met, fulfills the divine descrip- 
tion of a perfect society, and therefore of a perfect 
individual: “The length, and the breadth, and the 
height of it are equal.” 








SERMON 


PREACHED BY 
REV. MYRON N. MORRIS, 


AT WEST HARTFORD, JULY I, 1852. 


-I CORINTHIANS, 2: 2. 

“For I determined not to know anything among you, save 
Jesus Christ, and him crucified.” 

That course which Paul prescribed for himself when 
he went to preach the gospel in Corinth, should be de- 
termined upon by every minister when he goes among 
a people as an ambassador of Christ. There was one 
great theme to which the Apostle determined at the 
outset to confine himself,— ‘Christ, and him cruci- 
fied.” In this respect every minister of the Gospel 
should imitate him. The preacher and pastor appears 
among his people, not to display himself as a popular 
orator, nor a subtle metaphysician, nor a learned 
scholar, nora shrewd politician, but to unfold the great 
theme of the Apostle, “ Jesus Christ, and him cruci- 
fied,” as adapted to the wants of those for whose spirit- 
ual welfare he is to labor. This is his sole business. 
So far as he turns aside to other pursuits disconnected 
with this, he goes beyond the commission which he 
has received from his Divine Lord. 


92 A SERMON BY 


You observe the negative form of Paul’s expression, 
“TI determined zot to know any thing among you, save 
Jesus Christ.” -He does not say that he determined © 
to preach Christ to the people, but to know nothing else 
among them; he deliberately made up his mind to 
have nothing to do with any other subject which might 
be agitated among them. 

This, considering the character and tastes of the 
people of that Grecian city, is somewhat remarkable. 
A different course would appear, certainly at first view, 
to have been necessary in order to have the slightest 
prospect of pleasing them, and securing their favor. 

They were a people of very nice and refined taste, | 
especially in regard to forms of beauty and graceful- 
ness of manner. The arts of rhetoric were highly 
cultivated among them, and without the graces of ora- 
tory no public speaker could hope to find acceptance. 
Paul, then, was not the man to command their admira- 
tion. It was said of him that “his bodily presence 
was weak, and his speech contemptible.” And then 
he utterly discarded the idea of seeking to win them 
over by the fascination of his eloquence. They boasted 
of their wisdom, and delighted in the subtleties of 
speculative philosophy. But Paul, though his mind was 
peculiarly fitted for metaphysical disquisition, would 
engage in no such discussions. “When I came to 
you,” he says, “I came not with excellency of speech, 
or of wisdom. And I was with you in weakness, and © 
in fear, and in much trembling. And my speech and 
my preaching was not with enticing words of man’s 





REV. M. N. MORRIS. 93 


wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit, and of 
power ; that your faith should not stand in the wisdom 


of men, but in the power of God.” Did Paul set him- 





self up as a great preacher? In his preaching and in 
his movements, did he keep an eye to his own distin- 
guished reputation? Never. He was a distinguished 
preacher, and his fame will be co-extensive with the 
Gospel itself, but in his aims, he lost sight of himself. 

There was one subject which was peculiarly offen- 
sive to the Greeks. And that was the doctrine of 
Christ. To them, it was “foolishness.” It made no 
account of their wisdom or philosophy. It regarded 
. them as vain idolaters, and their wisdom as folly, and 
offered them salvation only through one whom they 
held in utter contempt,—the despised Nazarine. Would 
they be likely to listen for one moment to the propo- 
sition to take 4zm for a leader, and give their affec- 
tions and obedience to a man of such humble preten- 
sions, and one who, in their view, kept so low com- 
pany? Not they. And Paul well understood their 
feelings. And, knowing that “the excellency of the 
power” was of God, and not of man, he determined to 
dwell exclusively on this offensive subject. He would 
know nothing else among them. He would preach 
not only Christ, but a crucified Christ. He determined 
to make it his sole business to call on that cultivated, 
- luxurious, and proud people, to receive as their Saviour, 
—to love and obey, the man whom of all others they 
detested, and him, a crucified man!—to consecrate 


94 A SERMON BY 


themselves for time and eternity, to an executed crimi- 
nal, on whom the scorn of the world rested. 

And yet Paul was the last man to outrage the feel- 
ings of his fellow-men. -His life was an example of 
Christian courtesy. But he held a commission from 
Heaven. He felt that mecessety was laid upon him. 


“Yea,” he said, “woe is unto me if J preach not thes 
Gospel,’ He would gladly have pleased his hearers, 


but it was his first business to please his Master. Wil- © 


lingly would he have preached to them acceptable 
doctrine, but he must preach the preaching which God 
had bidden him. He was willing to be the unpopular 
preacher of a hated doctrine among them, if he might 
win some of them to Christ, and forever rejoice with 
them in their salvation. Such a result of his preach- 
ing he did hope tor, and, i accomplish it,. he tTe- 
solved to lay aside every other consideration, and 
throw the whole force of his ardent and powerful mind 
into the one work of preaching “ Christ and him cruci- 
fied.’”’ He had no confidence in human eloquence, or 
learning, or wisdom, to save the soul, and give it ever- 
lasting happiness,— but he did know that the Gospel, 
“the preaching of the Cross,” was “the power of God 
unto salvation to every one that believeth;” and he 
wisely resolved to have no concern with anything else. 

Such, we repeat, should be the purpose of every 
minister of Christ, as he enters upon his work. 

But how much is implied in the phrase, ‘ Jesus 
Christ and him crucified”? What are the limits to 
that one subject to which the minister of the Gospel is 


~ 





REV. M. N. MORRIS, 95 


to confine himself? Is every sermon he preaches to 


_ be. specifically upon Christ, as crucified to make an 





atonement for sinners? Is he never to preach, nor even 
converse, upon other topics? Is he never to enforce 
the practical duties of religion,— never to advocate the 
cause of temperance, or moral purity, or honesty? Or 
if he may do this, may he draw his arguments from no 
other source than directly from a crucified Saviour? 
Must he be conscientiously indifferent to the social 
and intellectual condition of his people ?—take no 
interest in education, or in any of the great plans for 
human improvement? Must he moreover refuse to 
know anything about these subjects,— be zgnorant of 
the most commen things, and of what is passing 
around him,—shut his eyes to the wonderful events 
of the present age —the glorious things which God is 
bringing to pass,—and live and act as though there 
was but one single subject upon which he—of all 
men— should have any knowledge or concern? Can 
he not inform himself of the facts of history, and de- 
rive from them his own lessons of wisdom,— enrich his 
mind with the treasures of science and literature, keep 
himself familiar with the political aspect of the nations, 
and even take part in those great movements that 
affect his own country and the world, without over- 
stepping the bounds of his commission? Surely, this 
would be a strange way of complying with the Apostle’s 
_ own direction, to make himself a workman that needeth 
not to be ashamed! Such acourse would be rapidly 
progressive, but it would be backward towards a state 


96 A SERMON BY 


of absolute barbarism and imbecility! It would be to 
cultivate vigorously the voot, but to determine that 
neither fruit, nor leaf, nor branch should ever be pro- 
duced! Nothing could be farther from the Apostle’s 
meaning. . 

What did he mean? Look at his object. He went 
mto the gay and voluptuous city of Corinth, to labor 
for the salvation of its inhabitants. There was idola- 
try there, and of course all the immorality that is in- 
separably connected with it. There was selfishness, 
and sin, and misery, in various forms, and the people 
were living without solid and satisfactory enjoyment, 
and dying, in Paul’s view, without hope — going into 
an eternity of despair. His object was to apply a 
remedy — one that would render them holy, give them 
peace of mind even in the midst of afflictions, and 
afford them the sure prospect of eternal joy. What 
was such a remedy? For this purpose, he had no 
confidence in the arts of civilization, none whatever in 
any degree of cultivation and refinement. Human 
learning, and wisdom, and eloquence were important 
in their place, but they could not save the soul from 
sin and death. [or this, Paul relied entirely and ex- 
clusively on the religion of Fesus Christ. And the 
essential feature of this was, fazth im the crucified 
Fesus. As a means of accomplishing his object, he 
would have nothing to do with anything else but this. 
And this is what he meant by saying, “I determined 
not to know anything among you save Jesus Christ, 
and him crucified.” 





REV. M. N, MORRIS. Q7 


This is a great and expansive subject,— sufficient to 
_ call forth the highest powers of the most gifted men. 

In view of it, the Apostle himself exclaimed: ‘“ Whois 

sufficient for all these things?”’ The work of the 
_ Christian ministry —as expressed by that one phrase, 

“Jesus Christ, and him crucified,” —includes the set- 

ting forth Christ and his great work of human redemp- 

tion,—a clear explanation of the way of life through 

Christ,—a full exposition of all the doctrines and 

duties of Christianity ; in a word, it embraces the ex- 

plaining and enforcing of all that God has revealed to 
men, respecting his own character and government, 
|’ and their opinions, practices, and character. 

To specify some things :— The minister of Christ 
must set forth the truth of God, precisely as it is re- 
vealed to us, and see that its character is properly 
understood. He must make no compromise, either of 
the divine justice or mercy, but represent all of God’s 
Attributes as constituting one harmonious character 
+a God of love. He must make a full exhibition of 
the character of man, as a fallen and depraved being, 
and justly exposed to the wrath of God. He must 
show man’s entire dependence on God’s sovereign 
grace, andthe nature and ground of that dependence, 
his need of a Saviour, and the regenerating and sancti- 
fying influences of the Holy Spirit. And constrained 
by the love of Christ, and feeling the deepest sympa- 
thy and compassion for those who are without a good 
hope, and longing for their salvation, he must pray 
them in Christ’s stead to be reconciled to God. And 


13 





98 A SERMON BY 


no unwillingness among his people to hear certain 
subjects discussed, and no opposition to certain doc- 
trines, should lead him to shrink for one moment from 
declaring the whole counsel of God. 

But the business of the minister of the Gospel is not 
merely to state the doctrines of Christianity,— he 
must also enforce its duties. -Christ has laid down 
certain principles, according to which it is the duty of 
‘all men to act. These principles are to govern them 
at all times and under all circumstances. They are 
the essential principles of the religion of Christ,— 
those which he established by his life and death. 
‘Whoever preaches “ Jesus Christ, and him crucified,” 
‘must preach these principles. And these, as we have 
said, are to be carried into every department of life. 
They are applicable to the entire range of human,con- 
duct. And co-extensive with their application is the 
‘range of subjects upon which the minister of Christ 
‘may properly dwell. He may follow the man of busi- 
ness to the counting-room, and insist that in every 
transaction he shall do to others as he would that others 
should do to him, for such is the command of the 
-crucified Saviour. He may follow the politician in his 
canvassing tour, and go with the voters to the polls, 
and declare the duty of each to act in the name of 
Christ, and with a view to promote his cause. He 
may preach against the sins of rulers; and if they 
make laws which favor oppression, or wickedness in 
any form, he may exhibit the wickedness of such laws, — 
_and point out the duty of his people respecting them. 


a 








REV. M. N. MORRIS. 99 


And if he is accused of intermeddling with politics, or 
of introducing subjects with which he has no concern, 
he can reply that politicians have intermeddled with 
the laws and directions of the crucified Jesus, and that 
his own proper business is to proclaim those laws and 
directions, and declare the sin of all who presume to 
disobey them. If his people become worldly-minded, 
and apply themselves so closely to their business dur- 
ing the week as to be unfitted for the duties of the 
Sabbath, he may reprove them for thus taking the 
best to themselves, and devoting the sick and the 
lame to God. And if they are too selfish and covetous 
to engage heartily in the work of giving the blessings 
of the Gospel to all men, he may show them that they 
have neither the spirit of the crucified Saviour, nor of 
those that belong to him. Against all forms of in- 
iquity he is to raise his voice like a trumpet, and show 
the people their transgressions. It is not sin in the 
abstract against which he is to contend,—sin which 
nobody has committed, and for which nobody is ac- 
countable, but the actual.sins of which the people with 
whom he has to do are guz/ty. And if he does not tell 
them in so many words, “Thou art the man,” he 
should at least bring home the charge so closely as to 
awaken the earnest inquiry, “Lord, is it 1?” And all 
the virtues of religion,— whatsoever is lovely and of 
good report,— he may advocate in his preaching. He 
may, on the authority of the Gospel of the crucified 
One, preach upon temperance, upon human freedom, 
upon honesty — even folitical righteousness, and often — 


& 
100 A SERMON BY 


call upon his people for the means of spreading the — 
Gospel, and not go a whit beyond the limits of the 
one great theme, “Jesus Christ, and him crucified;” | 
though some may complain that he does not preach 
the Gospel, because, forsooth, he preaches what the 
Gospel enjoins! 

The Cross of Christ is the central point of Chris- 
tianity. Every part of the great plan of salvation 
diverges from it. And yet, simply considered, it is a 
means toan end. Christ died that he might recon- 
cile the world to God. “He died for all, that they 
which live might not henceforth live unto themselves, 
but unto him which died for them and rose again.” 
“Jesus Christ, and him crucified,” should be preached, 
in order to produce practical holiness among men. 
And unless men should labor without any reference 
to results,;—unless the farmer should plough his 
ground and sow his seed with no reference to the har- 
vest, then the minister of Christ is chiefly concerned 
with such an application of the Gospel as will produce 
- the fruits of holiness — holiness in the heart — lead- 
ing to rectitude of conduct in all the pursuits of life. 

Such is the instrumentality by which the minister 
of the Gospel is to accomplish his work,— the remedy 
which he is to apply for the imperfections, the guilt 
and woes of man ;— “ Jesus Christ, and him crucified.” 
If this fails, he can attempt nothing more. His one 
and only business is to persuade men to receive the 
crucified Christ as their Lord and Saviour, and volun- 
tarily to conform to the rules and regulations of his 








REY.. M. N. . MORRIS. Lot 


kingdom. And he is to attend his people in all their 
courses of action, and in the name of the crucified 
Jesus show them that they can be placed in no possi- 
ble circumstances when they are at liberty to set 
aside one of these rules and regulations, And all this 
he is to enforce by the powerful sanctions of eternity, 
drawn from God’s Word. 

Piiseereat theme, “Christ, and him crucified,” 
thus preached, is well fitted to secure the attention of 
men. Notwithstanding the thoughtlessness of so 
many, there is a feeling of want within, the human 
-heart,—an unsatisfied desire,—a craving for some in- 
experienced good. There is also a secret feeling of 
guilt, and a vague dread of coming evil. The soul is 
not at rest. The religion of Christ proposes a direct 
and effectual remedy for this, offering substantial and 
lasting peace. 

It also explains to each one his real wants, and the 
precise mode of satisfying them. It flatters him not 
by reminding him of his good intentions and acts, and 
of God’s being disposed to overlook the shortcomings 
of imperfect men; but it shows him how God can be 
just, and save the very chief of sinners. The plain 
preaching of ‘ Jesus Christ crucified” for sinners ex- 
cites a deeper interest in the awakened soul than all 
the graces of oratory or the richest treasures of human 
wisdom. 

And it is “the power of God unto salvation to 
every one that believeth.” What has it accomplished 
for our race! Look over Christendom and see its 


102 A SERMON BY 


blessed effects on the social and intellectual, and even - 
the physical, conditicn of society! All this is through 
its influence on the heart. It is the working out of 
God’s benevolent plan for human salvation. Man — 
sinful, ruined man —is transformed into the image of 
his Saviour, and the unspeakable rejoicings of the 
multitude of the saved for eternity will attest the in- 
fluence and blessedness of the preacher's work. 

With two or three remarks I will close. 

1. You see what are my views of the work of a 
Christian minister,— the object he should set before 
him, and the means of accomplishing it. His business 
isnot to gratify the literary taste of his hearers,— to 
thrill them by his eloquence, or fascinate them by the 
beauties of style or graces of manner. He should not 
for a moment entertain the thought that when before 
them he is a proper subject of criticism in respect to 
any such things,— that he is to stand approved or con- 
demned by any such standard of judgment. He is 
with them for a more important object,—to treat 
with them, in the name of a crucified Redeemer, for 
their spiritual and eternal interests. And as he loves 
their souls, he will be earnest in this work. He can- 
not be at rest while any of them are unblest by the 
Saviour's love, and exposed to eternal banishment from 
his presence. His prayer by day and night will be, 
that with penitence for the past, they may all yield an 
affectionate trust in Jesus, and receive a sure hope of 
everlasting felicity. He may seek out well-chosen 
words, and lend attraction to his discourse by the em- 








REV. M. N. MORRIS. 103 


bellishments of style, but it is only that the truth may 
find readier access to their hearts. He may be a dili- 
gent student of nature, and explore the depths of 
science, but it is that he may be able the more richly 
to illustrate the goodness of God. He will cultivate 
his own powers to the highest degree, and enrich his 
mind with the most varied and valuable stores of 
knowledge — not in order to gain personal distinction, 
as a man of learning and talents, but that he may the 
better feed the flock over which the Holy Ghost has 
made him overseer, and secure the final salvation of 
his people. As he stands before them in the congre- 
gation, or attends them in their griefs and weeps over 
their sorrows, or meets them on festive occasions, or 
mingles in their society to cultivate the intimacy of 
friendship, this will be his prevailing desire — their 
everlasting joy in the presence of God, when called 
away from the scenes of earth. To obtain this, he 
has but one thing to offer, “Jesus Christ, and him 
, crucified.” 

2. The minister must be his own judge as to the 
manner in which he shall perform the duties of his 
office. So far as God has given directions, he must 
strictly follow them, but he must use his ow powers 
in interpreting those directions. And then many 
things are left to his discretion and wisdom. In re- 
spect to ability and skill in “rightly dividing the Word 
of Truth,” so as to give to each a portion in due 
season, there are various degrees, and perhaps no two 
ministers would precisely agree, in all respects, what 


SOA. A SERMON BY 


course to pursue. Each one must be guided by his 
own judgment. He must determine for himself what 
particular topics he will introduce in his preaching, 
and on what occasions, and what prominence he shall 
sive to particular doctrines. And in the entire course 
of his ministry he must “study to show himself a 
workman that needeth not to be ashamed.” He may 
err in judgment, but this is the common infirmity of 
all men. He will, of course, consult the views and 
feelings of his people; he will confer with his brethren. 
Some of these brethren may be far wiser than him- 
self; still it is not ¢kezy wisdom but his own that is 
always to guide him in his course. If he cannot be 
trusted to act according to his own judgment, but must 
look to superior minds to direct him in the sacred 
office, surely he is not competent to fill that office. 
We hold to the perfect equality of ministers, in respect 
of authority, as also that of church members. And as 
each must give account of his own stewardship to 
God, each must act on his own responsibility. 

3. Finally, the minister of Christ, and especially 
the pastor of a Christian church, is called to a good 
work. He sustains a very endearing relation to his 
people. No faithful minister can dwell long among 
an affectionate Christian people as their pastor with- 
out having his own heart bound to them by strong ties 
of attachment. The nature of. his work leads to this. 
He is ever with them as their friend, and their child- 
ren’s friend, and deeply sympathizes with them in all 
their varied circumstances. He devotes his best ener- 








REV. M. N. MORRIS. 105 


gies to their good. They are ever on his mind. Not 
a joy of theirs but gladdens his heart, and their every 
sorrow makes him sad. He seeks to gain them as 
“seals of his ministry,” and hopes that they will be his 
joy and crown of rejoicing in the day of Jesus Christ. 
Can he help loving them with increasing affection ? 
And then he acts as an ambassador of the Crucified 
Saviour, in persuading his people to be reconciled to 
God. And as he performs the duties of his ministry, 
and as the result sees wickedness checked, animosities, 
and strifes, and envyings and backbiting kept out, and 
the power of selfishness weakened, and good princi- 
ples established, and souls converted, and saints en- 
gaging with more and more heartfelt interest in every 
good work, and thus sees that Christ owns and blesses 
his labors, and dwells among his people, he cannot but 
rejoice, and feel that he is engaged in a most blessed 
work. May this work to which you, dear friends, have 
called me be blessed to us all, both temporally and 
‘spiritually, and result in our mutual and everlasting 
joy in the presence of Jesus Christ, our crucified 
Redeemer. Amen. 


14 


SHRMON 
PREACHED BY 
REv. MYRON N. MORRIS, 


AT WEST HARTFORD, APRIL 18, 1875, 


PSALM 4: 6. 

“There be many that say, Who will show us any good? Lord, | 
lift thou up the light of thy countenance upon us.” 

Among those who have not found that peace of 
God which lifts the soul above earthly things, there 
is a general state of unrest, a disquietude of spirit 
that detracts largely from the highest enjoyment. 
Each one has his sorrow, his trouble, his vexation, 
his inconvenience, his regrets, his unfavoring condi- 
tion or circumstances, from which he is anxiously 
looking for some way of escape. The present posi- 
tion and employment are not quite satisfactory; the 
prevailing views and customs in the community are 
not altogether agreeable; privileges for improvement 
are too limited; or one feels himself too little appre- 
ciated to suit his aspirations, and opportunities are in- 
sufficient for the development and occupation of his 
own talents. To some, all affairs, public and private, 
are disjointed and out of place. To some, their chil- 
dren are a source of ceaseless solicitude. Some are 
entangled in pecuniary embarrassment, or even feel 








A SERMON BY REV. M. N. MORRIS. 107 


the gnawings of poverty, and seek for remunera- 
tive employment only to meet with disappointment 
till the heart is sick; while others are disquieted lest. 
some of their possessions should melt away. One 
carries in his heart unavailing regrets over some mis- 
steps in the past, and over the future of another dark 
clouds have gathered. One feels lonely and longs for 
sympathy and companionship, and another is depressed 
with the feeling that his life is useless, and that there 
is no good in prospect. Some repine at the necessity 
of toil and self-denial, while others would gladly give 
their vast wealth for the sweet sleep, and keen appe- 
tite, and freedom from care of the laboring man. Thus 
every one has his burden,—is made more or less 
unhappy by the want of something which he cannot 
. obtain, or by the desire of some change which never 
comes. And the general cry is, ‘Who will show us 
any good?” 

In vain do men seek for peace of mind in this 
direction. A restless disquietude may drive them 
from place to place, and from one change to another, 
but only to be disquieted still. Happiness cannot thus 
be found. A heathen poet had the wisdom to write: 


“Coelum, non animum, mutant, qui trans mare currunt.” 


They who fly across the ocean change the sky above 
them, not their disposition. Happy when even Chris- 
tians fully and practically learn this great truth. True 
rest for the spirit from all these troubles is found alone 
in the love of God. The Psalmist understood this. It 


108 A SERMON BY 


is what we all need. And instead of inquiring with 
restless desire, Who will show us any good? it were 
better that we should look up to him who can fill our 
souls with light, and love, and peace, and pray, ‘Lord, 
lift thou up the light of thy countenance upon us.” 

The image here is of God, raising his head, and 
turning his face, beaming with love, full upon you, as 
perhaps when the rising sun lifts his glowing face upon 
the rejoicing earth. Such a token of personal recog- 
nition, and love, and complete protection from God, 
amid the sorrows and troubles incident to this lifé, 
satisfies the soul. What we want then is faith in God, 
as an almighty, wise, upright, and benevolent being, — 
and especially as a loving Father and personal Re- 
deemer. 

1. We want confidence in him as one that loves us, . 
and is disposed to do us good. If I mistake not, the 
Scriptures uniformly represent God as desiring the 
welfare of men. True, we are sinners, and as such 
under condemnation. We certainly have no claims to 
his favor. But what is he doing? He is adminis- 
tering through Christ his Son, our Redeemer, a medi- 
atorial government over this world, —is offering par- 
don and salvation to as many as will believe in Jesus. 
The invitations of the Gospel are universal, and his 
solemn charge is that they be extended to all 
men. And the entire spirit and tendency of the Gos- 
pel are to bring all men to Christ. God is engaged in 
a saving work with men. He ‘is long-suffering to 
usward, not willing that any should perish, but that 








REV. M. N. MORRIS. 109 


‘all should come to repentance.” There are, indeed, 
many passages in the Bible that speak of God as “a con- 
suming fire,” as being “angry with the wicked every 
day,’’ and as entertaining purposes of vengeance upon 
them. But are not all these predicated upon that 
malignity which sets God at defiance, or profanely 
rejects his proffered grace? And is there any threat- 
ening of evil upon men except for this persistent impen- 
itence? No, — punishment is God’s strange work, and 
he comes to it with pity and grief. And though it isa 
fearful thing to live in impenitence under his grace, 
and still more fearful to go to the judgment in this 
state, yet while their probation lasts, God desires to 
have all men come,;to him, and be his obedient 
children, and -partake of the rich blessings of his 
erace. 

Now what every person needs, to give him true rest 
of spirit, is a confidence in God as a loving Father, — 
and also tokens of his own acceptance in Christ as a 
beloved child.. He needs to be sensible of his own 
sinfulness, of the free rich grace of Christ his Re- 
deemer, and of the ceaseless tender regard of his 
Heavenly Father, into whose family he has been adopted 
as an heir of Heaven. 

2. We need to have confidence in God as having 
arranged for us in the wisest and most benevolent 
manner, in relation to our birth, condition, and cir- 
cumstances. We might complain that thorns and 
briars, poisonous serpents, ferocious beasts, and annoy- 
ing vermin infest the earth, that sickness, and pain, 


IIo A SERMON BY 


and death are the lot of man, but we are not to forget’ 
that we belong to a fallen race, and that the earth is 
cursed with sin. We should remember that God, by 
all the instrumentalities and influences of his grace, is 
at work, remedying these evils. And this should more 
than satisfy us, and fill us with gratitude. As to our 
personality and condition, we might indulge in repin- 
ing because we were not endowed with more brilliant 
eifts, and born to more perfect health, —to richer priv- 
ileges, to a higher or more influential social position, 
and to brighter prospects. But who are we, that we 
should thus sit in judgment on our Maker’s arrange- 
ments, or so ungratefully find fault with what he has 
done for us? Indeed, why did God make such a 
world, and people it with such beings, and establish 
such laws, and relations, and tendencies? Are we, 
the creatures of a day, too ignorant wisely to direct 
our own petty concerns, able to instruct the Almighty 
in relation to his universal system of creation? If 
not, let every breath of discontent and murmuring in ~ 
relation to our personal condition and circumstances, 
as arranged by God, be hushed. Read God’s search- 
ing words to Job in relation to this very point. We 
are too ignorant, and short-sighted, and selfish, to sug- 
gest a single change in these things. What he shall 
create, how he shall govern and direct his own work, 
and especially how he shall treat the individuals and 
individual concerns of a sinful race, we may certainly 
well leave to the Judge of all the earth, and Saviour of 
men ! 








REV. M. N. MORRIS. III 


But even we can understand something of our 
Heavenly Father’s love and wisdom in creating differ- 
ent orders of beings, and in the variety of condition 
which he has established among men. You wish that 
you had an inheritance of wealth, and were under no 
necessity of labor. Would you have all born in that 
condition? For surely you will not ask that for your- 
self which you would not also desire for all others. 
If there are to be those who by reason of wealth are to 
rely on the service of others, there must be others in a 
condition to seek such service, else wealth would be of 
no avail for such a purpose. If there are to be em- 
ployers, there must also be the employed. If capital 
is to be employed in enterprises, there must be labor to 
be employed by capital, or it can accomplish nothing. 
On the other hand, if a man without pecuniary means 
wishes to get on in the world, he must find somebody 
willing to employ him, and able to pay him for his ser- 
vices. And by the blessing of God, he may advance 
to.affluence, a man all the more energetic, and skill- 
ful, and sympathizing, and every way more noble, for 
having been laid under the necessity of making some- 
thing of himself by his own exertions. And even he, 
in midst of his full prosperity, may sometimes regret- 
fully think of the more happy, hopeful days of his 
small beginning. Surely, the advantage is not alto- 
gether on the side of him who is born to an inherit- 
ance of wealth. And so of all the different conditions 
and circumstances of men. We cannot sufficiently 
admire the wisdom and goodness of God in arranging 


112 A SERMON BY 


all these differences, and establishing through them a 
universal system of mutual dependencies, thus bring- 
ing all under one common interest, so that the pros- 
perity of one class shall promote the prosperity of — 
every other. And he is the most worthy of praise, 
and the happiest, who best fills the station assigned 
by Providence. These remarks are not designed to 
favor any form or degree of caste, or exclusiveness. 
Caste is opposed to God’s arrangement. So far as we 
have to do with the matter, we would have every in- 
dividual free to make the most of himself, —for the 
honor of God, and the welfare of man, in the way most 
satisfactory to himself and for which he may be best 
fitted ; and we would have all honors and rewards 
equally open to all, according to their individual work 
and ability. 

Cease then this uneasiness and disquietude about 
your condition and circumstances; rather behold in it 
the loving kindness of your Heavenly Father, and 
while you cheerfully walk in the path he opens for you, 
let your spirit find rest and peace in the light of his 
countenance. 

3.. We want also, in order to our freedom from dis- 
quietude of mind, to have confidence in God as direct- 
ing our way in life. Many there are who are dissatis- 
fied with present circumstances, and yet do not know 
how to change them. They are not quite pleased with 
the past, and are uncertain and anxious about the 
future. They are undertaking to direct their own 
steps, or else they have not full confidence in the love 








REV. M. N. MORRIS. I13 


of God, as directing them. No one acting upon this 
_ principle, and with this feeling, can be at rest. For 
who has control of those circumstances and events 
that very seriously affect himself? The most wisely 
laid plans are liable to fail. Besides, even if one was 
able to control affairs, who knows what will prove for 
his own substantial good? A young man, in casting 
about to secure his own best interests, discovers an 
opening of exceeding promise. He occupies it, and 
by connections and complications wholly unforeseen he 
is led into deep trouble, or even ruin. Another, hav- 
ing committed his way unto the Lord, sees that same 
opening, but by some providential hindrance cannot 
avail himself of it, and thus is saved from all disaster. 
Ye who trust in the Lord for guidance, recall the 
- events of your past history, — have you not often had 
occasion to bless God that your plans were defeated,. 
and your wishes crossed, that you were held back 
from something which, at the time, seemed exceedingly 
desirable; that you were not permitted to prosper 
in some enterprise which you had undertaken? And 
have you not been led into the possession of some of 
the choicest blessings of your life by some providen- 
tial event, something entirely independent of your own 
agency or plans? In the main, probably, God guides 
your judgment and blesses your plans and undertak- 
ings, but it is not safe to lean to your own under- 
standing. Fond but wise parent, how do you manage 
your own child, that child so dear to your heart? Do 
you not impose restraints upon it,and cross its wishes, 
1h, 


ITl4 A SERMON BY 


and disappoint its hopes, and all for its own best wel- 
fare, because you cannot bear to see evil come upon 
it? Let us have confidence in our Heavenly Father 
in respect to his providential arrangements for us, com- 
mit our way unto him, use our best judgment and dis- 
cretion in things committed to our direction, seeking 
his guidance, and set our hearts at rest in relation to 
the course of events, “be careful for nothing, but in 
every thing by prayer and supplication, with thanks- 
giving, let our requests be made known unto God. 
And the peace of God which passeth all understand- 
ing, shall keep our hearts and minds through Christ 
Jesus.” 

4. We need to have confidence in God as really 
‘sympathizing with us, and sustaining us in all the pain- 
fuland unpleasant experiences of our lives. You meet 
with a grievous calamity, perchance like one of those 
which came upon Job. You say in your heart, I have 
met with a misfortune. How much I have labored to 
- obtain this good! How much I have depended on it, 
and anticipated’ in the enjoyment of it! And now it 
is taken away from me. All that labor has been in 
vain ; all these hopes have ended in disappointment. 
It is an utter loss, so much happiness taken away, and 
misery substituted in its place. Does God notice? 
Does he care? If he is good,—if he is my friend, 
why does he permit such things? Yes, God does 
notice, and he is good, and your friend ; and he brought 
this upon you, by design; there is no mistake, no fate, 
-no mishap, no chance about it; and if you receive it 








RN Gs ON. MORRIS. Il5 


with a meek, submissive, trusting spirit, it will prove, 
not aloss, but a most blessed thing for you, producing 


‘in you the peaceable fruits of righteousness. For 


remember you belong to a sinful race. Christ, we 
trust, has redeemed you, breathed into you the new . 


_ life, and you are a child of God, and are to dwell in one 


of those mansions prepared for his children. But you 
are not yet fit to be received there. The clods of 
earth hang around you. The attachments of earth 
still too closely cling to you. The eyes of your faith 
are still dimmed by the dust of earth. You savor in 
spirit too much of. the things that be of man, and too 
little of the things that be of God. And this misfor- 
tune, as you call it, is designed to brighten you into a 
shining Christian character. The most depressing in- 
fluence of the afflictions, and burdens, and sorrows we 
bear, arises from the feeling that they are evil, — evil 
to us, and only evil, that no good comes from them. 
Under such an impression, how could perfect acqui- 


_ escence and rest of spirit be possible?’ But it is not 


so. There is no labor or hardship we undergo in the, 
work of life, that is more remunerative than those trials 
which God sends, if we bear them with a submissive 
spirit. This world is not for therearing of monuments 
of personal pride, for the accumulation of fortunes, nor 
altogether for personal enjoyment, — though these may 
be desirable in their way. where there is nothing to 
hinder ; it is—in God's benevolent designs — for a 
higher purpose, for the discipline, the perfecting, 
the brightening of the soul, the bringing it. into a re- 


116 A SERMON BY 


semblance to Jesus; and any chiseling, or chipping, 
or rasping, and rubbing, that will best effect this may 
be well endured. We willingly endure so much as 
this sometimes to cure even some physical ill. Some 
surfaces are hard to polish, and so we are subjected to 
the daily and hourly chafings, and frictions, the jost- 
lings, and bruisings, necessary to wear off our asperi- 
ties and bring out gradually the “beauty of holiness.” 
These little vexations and annoyances, rightly im- 
proved, teach us patience, and forbearance, and sym- 
pathy; and love. If God then will lift upon us the 
light of his countenance, and let us know that he loves 
us, and has taken us into his hands for this blessed 
purpose, feeling for us the most tender sympathy the 
while, may we not feel that there is nothing better to 
be desired? | 

Would you gladly escape the discipline of unpleasant 
necessities, and burdens, and trials? Go scan the 
character of that young person who has grown up 
under this principle, has always been pampered and 
indulged, has never had his wishes crossed, nor his will 
subdued, has had no restraints imposed, nor tasks as- 
signed, has been accustomed not to please and to serve, 
but to have all others yield their wishes to his, has 
never endured any hardship, or self-denial, nor been 
obliged to perform any useful labor; that person, as a 
child, at the age when ordinary children are lovely and 
attractive, was absolutely hateful, its little face redden- 
ing with anger at any thing that displeased it, and its 
little hands and feet giving violent demonstration of 








REV. M. N. MORRIS. Hy 


its inward rage, selfishly claiming the best of every- 
thing, and if it was not instantly given up, showing 
that same violent temper; and so that child has grown 
up becoming more and more perverse, until: now, his 
presence is almost unendurable. Such an example 
may be rare; but how many do we meet who are self- 
willed, who cannot brook restraint, or opposition, who 
are slaves to an indulged appetite, who are inefficient, 

and unequal to any noble work, and all from want of 
proper discipline! O my friends, instead of disquie- 
tude under the seeming evils we meet, let us rather 
thank God for them. They are a token of good. 
nip enewhom the Lord loveth; he chasteneth, and 
scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. . . . Fur- 
thermore, we have had fathers of our flesh which cor- 
rected us, and we gave them reverence; shall we not 
much rather be in subjection unto the Father of spir- 
its andlive? For they verily for a few days chastened 
us after their own pleasure; but he for our profit, 
that we might be partakers of his holiness.” 

Do you try to work your spirits into resignation from 
the thought that these afflictions and evils may be 
made up to you inthe world to come? Yes, and more. 
than made up, by the “exceeding and eternal weight 
of glory.” But in this life you are more than compen- 
sated. Are not an increased faith in God, submission, 
patience, sympathy, love, a spirit cheerful and trusting, 
a full compensation for many a trial? And such 
graces, once attained, will forever shine. 

But can a man whose earthly hopes have been all 


118 A SERMON ‘BY 


blasted, whose life-accumulations have all disappeared, 7 


hold up his head, and walk as joyously, and hopefully, __ 


and energetically as before? Why not, if he under- 
stands the true essence and end of life? He need not 
go like a broken-down man, who has lost his all, and is 
waiting for death to end his disappointment and mis- 
ery. If the light of God’s countenance be lifted upon 
him, assuring him of the divine love, and if his calam- 
ity has brought him nearer to God, he has met with no 
loss, but an unspeakable gain. The remaining years 
of Job’s life, after his afflictions, were more blessed than 
any of the preceding ones, and would have been, even 
if his worldly prosperity had not, returned, because he 
was in every way aso much better man. 

It may require time, and much self-discipline to work 
this intellectual view of the case into the feelings of 
the heart, or really to feel as we know we ought to 
feel. Trials are not pleasant in present experience. 
They sometimes come like a shock under which we 
reel. But under their working, so painful to bear, we 
may be schooled to a new resignation, and submission, 
and patience, and experience, and hope, and joy. 
_ Then we may learn to meet cheerfully and hopefully 
the necessary evils and vexations incident to our con- 
dition, bearing one another’s burdens, and expecting 
by all the necessities and demands of life, to be wrought 
more and more into the image of our glorious Lord and 
Pattern. | ue 

Let us then seek, in the light of God’s countenance, 
in the manifestation of his love to us, deliverance from 





REV. M. N. MORRIS. 119 


‘that disquiet and unrest which so generally mar the 
happiness of the children of this world. God is all 
right, there is no mistake, no neglect, not one thing to 
be corrected in any thing he does. He has created a 
world perfectly fitted to its end; and as it is full of sin 
and disorder, he is managing it in the most perfect 
manner for its deliverance. In our own existence, in 
our personal being, condition and circumstances, and 
in our whole course of life under providence, we have 
only occasion for gratitude. And when we think of 
the great salvation in Christ Jesus, and of the remark- 
able fact that all the restraints, and necessities, and 
burdens, and demands for exertion and self-denial, and 
even the most trying experiences of life, are made to 
contribute to the development of our entire being to the 
brightening of our Christian graces, and to our com- 
plete transformation into the likeness of Christ, so that 
we shall share in his glory, we may well be filled with 
exultation, or with the peace of God which passeth 
knowledge. For what more, or different can we desire? 





STATISTICAL RECORD. 





_ Myron Newton Morris, born at Warren, Conn., Nov. 19, 1810. 

Atschool of Hon. Hawley Olmstead, Wilton, Conn., May 3, 1832, 
to Aug. 23, 1833. . 

Entered Yale College, October, 1833. Graduated, August 16, 
1837. 

Principal of Bacon Academy, Colchester, Conn., February, 1837, 
to September, 1838; also from May, 1840, to September, 1843; 
going back to Yale to graduate, after beginning to teach. 

Instructor in Mathematics and Natural Philosophy at the Teach- 
ers Seminary, Andover, Mass., October, 1838, to April, 1840. 

Studied theology privately during his years of teaching. 

Licensed to preach by the Association of New London County, 
Conn., September 26, 1843. 

Took private pupils at Colchester, Conn., in 1844. 

Principal of Norwich Town High School, Conn., January to 
September, 1845. 

Ordained pastor of Congregational Church in North Stonington, 
Conn., April 15, 1846. Dismissed, June 15, 1852. 

Installed pastor of Congregational Church in West Hartford, 
Conn., July 1, 1852. Dismissed, April 27, 1875. 

Trustee of Bacon Academy, May, 1851, to July 7, 1864. 

Register of General Association of Connecticut, June, 1854, to 
June, 1866. 

Trustee of Missionary Society of Connecticut; June, 1855, to 
June, 1877. 

Director of Auxiliary to American Home Missionary Society, 
June, 1855, to June, 1863. 

Vice-President and director of Hartford County Auxiliary Mis- 
sionary Society, September, 1856, to (date unknown). 

Member of Corporation of Yale College, July, 1867, to July 9, 


1885. 
F 16 


I22 PUBLISHED DISCOURSES. 


Vice-President of Connecticut we: Society, May 5, 1863, to 
May 9, 1882. 

Auditor of Missionary Society of Connecticut, June, 1877, to 
November, 1880. 

Secretary of Missionary Society of Connecticut, July, 1877, to 
November, 1880. 

Representative from West Hartford to Connecticut Legislature, 
1872 and 1875. 

Died at West Hartford, Conn., July 9, 1885. 


# 





PUBLISHED DISCOURSES. 





“A Discourse delivered at the Dedication of the Congrega- 
tional House of Worship in North Stonington, Conn., July 27 
1848." Historical, © = 

‘“Two Discourses, delivered March 8, and 15, 1863, on the 
Completion of a Century and a half from the Organization of the 
- Congregational Church in West Hartford, Conn.” 

“ Historical Discourse before the General Conference of the 
Congregational Churches of Connecticut, delivered at New 
Haven, November 15, 1876.” Being the second of “ two histori- 
cal discourses delivered on successive evenings, referring, in 
part, at least, to the relations of the Congregational Churches of 
Connecticut to the civil government, and to popular education 
and social reforms. One of these discourses to cover the period 
preceding the Declaration of Independence; the other, the 
period subsequent to that event;” the first delivered by Rev. 
Leonard Bacon, D.D. 

Sketch of Rev. Joseph Fish, in Sprague’s “Annals of the 
American Pulpit.” 





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